


[from the minute i met you]

by bs13



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: + a dumb lovable cat, F/F, The Vow AU, basically an amnesia/found family/loss of love jumble, ft. angst, secrets from the luthors and the els alike are going to cause chaos, superpowered!kara but no supergirl, technically lovers to strangers to lovers au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs13/pseuds/bs13
Summary: Kara is ready to come clean to her wife about everything she’s kept from her—that she is an alien with superpowers in particular. But when Lena loses all memory of Kara and their life together, Kara is forced to make the hardest choice in her life: to try to win back the woman she loves, or accept that it's time to let her go.





	1. my thoughts will echo your name

**Author's Note:**

> first off, just wanted to drop a warning that this chapter features a depiction of a car crash - feel free to skip the ending of this chapter if you don't want to read it!
> 
> second, i just _have_ to thank [aron](https://narraboths.tumblr.com/) & [mae](http://thisainthealthy.tumblr.com/) for letting me talk about this fic. it's definitely been a while since i did that lmao because w o w has it been forever since i started this. tragic.
> 
> this fic is based off the movie "the Vow," but as always, I switch up a lot of what happens in the source material & all that. basically, all i ever wanted was to write an amnesia fic where lena has never known that kara is an alien - and now, thanks to the accident, might never find out. also it's my first real formal attempt at lots of angst so it's...something.
> 
> (p.s.: this was originally intended to be a oneshot, but i'm cutting it into pieces. most of this fic has already been written, so it'll probably update in a timely-ish manner)

When Kara wakes, it's to an empty bed and the suspicious sound of a cat purring.

The sheets are already slipping off the bed, and she pulls them back up with a yawn, rubbing at her eyes tiredly as she steps onto the cold hardwood floor she can't really feel. A quick cursory glance out of the bedroom and into the kitchen affirms the fact that Lena is—as she always is—feeding that alleyway cat that hangs around their door most days.

Kara is unable to do anything but smile at the sight of Lena crouched halfway out the door, still dressed in pajamas, sweater hanging half-off her shoulder as she coaxes the cat into accepting some water.

“You're only encouraging him to keep coming back, you know,” Kara whispers so as to not startle the cat away, coming up behind Lena to press a kiss to the back of her neck.

Lena starts; with a gasp she says, “Kara! Don't _do_ that,” and jumps to her feet, nearly stumbling backwards into Kara. The cat scampers away, but Kara knows he'll pop up eventually. He always comes back.

“You know I'm allergic to cats,” Kara says, ignoring Lena's affronted expression, “and we can't afford a cat, either.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “You're not allergic to cats, you just say that,” she mutters, but she gives Kara that exasperated fond smile that means _I love you, you idiot_ and Kara doesn't take it too seriously. “I'm not trying to keep him either.”

“Okay,” Kara says, just a touch patronizingly, and Lena shoves at her shoulder as she makes her way back inside. Kara lets herself be pushed, and smiles at Lena's back as she shuts the front door.

Lena starts taking over the kitchen like she usually does in the morning, switching on the leaky faucet to get coffee brewing. She never lets Kara touch the ancient kettle if she can help it; she swears Kara can burn water, and Kara never argues the point.

Kara follows her to watch, and wonders how she ever got so lucky. Everything about early-morning Lena is her favorite, from the softness of her messy hair and tired eyes to the short-tempered annoyance she shows every time she's reminded how early it is.

She catches Kara watching her battle with the coffee machine, and in turn squints at her suspiciously. “What?” Lena demands, putting her hands on her hips.

“Nothing,” Kara says, and at Lena's deepening scowl, grins. “You're always so grumpy in the morning.”

“I am _not_.”

“You are,” Kara counters. “But it's very cute.”

Lena only scowls harder. “I'm not a morning person,” she grouses, “sue me.”

Kara laughs, and gets close enough to press a kiss to Lena's temple. “I love you,” she says, corners of her mouth twitching to stay still as she watches Lena, predictably, melt.

“You're going to be late to work,” is Lena's only reply, but her eyes are smiling even if she isn't; she catches the edge of Kara's shirt before she can pull away, and leaves a kiss right at the corner of her mouth. “Go take a shower, cat hater.”

“I love cats! It’s not my fault I’m allergic.” Kara isn’t allergic to cats at all, of course, but it’s something like a running joke now; it works to make Lena laugh, even if she won’t admit it. “I promise you one day we’ll adopt tons of furry cat children if that’s what you want, even at the risk of my impending doom.”

“You’re not allergic to cats, you dork,” Lena laughs. “Seriously, will you go shower? If you’re late you’re going to complain.”

“Or we could _both_ take a shower,” Kara suggests, resting her hands shyly onto Lena's hips.

Lena presses her lips together, mostly for show. “You're incorrigible,” she says. Accuses, more like, and she gently pushes Kara back. “I'll take you up on that some other time when you _don’t_ have a huge interview to get ready for.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Lena echoes, feigning exasperation, and she gives Kara another nudge. “Now _go_ , or else I'll call Alex as reinforcement.”

“Hey, that's playing dirty,” Kara protests, and she steals one more kiss—this time a firm, smiling one against Lena's lips—before she actually detangles herself from her wife. “Let's have a date night tonight. What do you think?”

“I think you're stalling,” Lena replies, turning back to the kettle. “Hurry up already, you have half an hour.”

“I'll take that as a yes!” Kara yells as she makes her way out of the kitchen, beaming to herself as she catches Lena's ensuing quiet chuckle. 

(She loves that, after so long, she can still make Lena's heart skip a beat.)

She takes as fast a shower as she can get away with, because apparently showering in under a minute is frowned upon by humans. Alex is always envious of their water bill because whenever Lena’s not home Kara gets the chance she uses superspeed for stuff like that.

By the time Kara comes out of the bathroom, toweling off her wet hair, Lena’s already left to work. She’s left a sticky note on the bed that reads, _Jess couldn’t open. I left coffee in the microwave._ ❤️

This happens more often than usual, and it makes Kara’s good mood dissipate in an instant; it’s just now that she realizes what time of year it is.

.

.

.

Lena throws herself into work around this time.

She'll be in and out of the house, pressing absentminded kisses to Kara's cheeks as she rushes out to meet Jess. She stays late even though she doesn't have to, and comes home exhausted, often falling asleep at the kitchen table as she makes a late dinner.

Then, late at night, Lena will wake up and play that old, dusty piano she usually never touches. She has always said it reminds her too much of her family and the piano lessons she'd endured as a kid; as far as she is concerned, Lex's gift is better off collecting dust in the corner of the living room.

Kara knows it's her way of coping, so she doesn't interfere. She even listens to Lena play, when Lena thinks she's fast asleep. Lena always presses on the keys so lightly, as if she fears what she could do if she pressed them more firmly, and whenever a proper song comes out it's often something sad and obsolete.

It kills Kara inside to stay quiet about it, and she tries to cheer Lena up as much as she can. She dusts off the piano; she sets flowers out on the kitchen table; she leaves small love notes stuck to Lena's gross health foods in the fridge.

(But Lena still tries her best to hide herself away, even if she has to stay away from Kara to do so.)

This morning in particular she seems more forlorn than usual, throwing a scarf around her neck as she starts up the kettle. She's fully dressed even though it's seven in the morning, every bit the imposing figure even though her energy is directed at glowering at kitchen utensils.

“Hey,” Kara yawns, padding into the room still dressed in her pajamas. One of the pros of working from home means she gets to sleep in, even if Lena doesn’t get that luxury. “I thought it was your day off today.”

“I can't leave Jess by herself,” Lena mutters, still angrily focused on what looks like untangling a spatula from the drawer full of cutlery.

“You always do, that's why it's your day _off_ ,” Kara reminds her as she brushes past to take down a box of cereal from the open cupboard.

Lena remains silent at that, quietly setting aside the freed spatula as she reaches for a saucepan.

Kara tries another tactic. “You should stay,” she suggests, tugging the belt hoops of Lena's jeans to pull her closer. Lena gives her an incredulous look, but it melts away the instant Kara rests her chin atop her shoulder. “Please?”

“I have to get to the studio,” Lena protests, “and I already told Jess I would.”

“Jess thinks you work too much,” Kara counters, and she presses a kiss to Lena's shoulder for good measure. “She'd be thrilled.”

“I really can't stay, Kara,” Lena sighs. “We booked a group right at eight and Jess doesn't come in until nine. I have to leave soon.”

Kara knows she's being deliberately ignored, and she gives a sigh of her own, heavy and long-suffering. “I miss you,” she mumbles against Lena's sweater.

The guilt card doesn't work often, but this time it does. “I'm sorry,” Lena says, and she truly does sound apologetic; she turns so she's facing Kara, and tenderly cups her cheeks, resting her forehead against Kara's in one swift movement. “I miss you, too.”

They stand together for a moment, a selfish moment that Kara allows, and then she kisses Lena once—softly, just the barest touch of their lips—before she steps away.

“Don't work too hard, okay?” she says.

Lena's eyes soften. “I'll try not to,” she promises.

It's a start, and Kara takes it, giving Lena one last reassuring smile before she turns back to her cereal.

When Lena leaves, she kisses Kara's cheek and says, “I love you,” the words as apologetic as they are genuine.

The house always feels empty when Lena’s not home, so once she’s gone Kara flops down on the couch and turns on the TV for some background noise. Usually by now she’d head to her studio, but she’s waiting on a confirmation that she’s gotten the job for the art piece over at the place on 27th; she’s too antsy hoping she’s been selected, and far too worried to work on anything else.

Her solution is to call Alex, and load up her computer to do some online shopping while she waits for her to answer. Her phone only has to dial once or twice before Alex does, luckily, and after a burst of muffled static she hears,

“Hey, Kara.”

“Hi,” Kara says, bringing up her email and sighing when all she finds are numerous reminders of bills waiting. “Are you busy?”

“No, I’m stuck on desk duty. You know how my captain is after a big case—he wants to make sure it doesn’t go to our heads, or something. How’d your interview go? Did they pick you?”

“I don’t know yet. They said they’d email me soon,” Kara says, refraining from refreshing her email for the fifth time in a minute. “Hopefully they liked me.”

“They’d be stupid not to give you the job,” Alex assures her. “I’m sure Lena’s already making plans for a celebration once you get it.”

The mention of Lena just makes Kara’s heart sink. “Lena’s got enough on her plate,” she says grimly. “I wish I didn’t tell her about it. If I don’t get it she’s going to be—you know, how she is every time I don’t get a job. It’s even worse, considering this time of year…”

Alex goes quiet. Then, “That’s not your fault, Kara.”

“It is,” Kara says faintly. “Rao, Alex, I don’t know what to do. I want to tell her. I want to tell her everything.”

“I know,” Alex says. She’s particularly sympathetic about the subject because she loves Lena, too; the only problem is she cares for Kara’s safety just as much. “But you know that’s not a good idea.”

Just once Kara wishes that Alex could quit being a big sister. Just _once_ , to tell Kara she understands. Just once to say that she wishes she could tell Lena the truth, too. But Alex is about as self-sacrificing as Clark was once, and Kara knows she can’t ask too much of her.

“I love her,” Kara argues weakly. It’s second nature, at this point, to defend Lena even though Alex doesn’t hate her anymore. “And you know I trust her with my life.”

“This isn’t about trust and you know it,” Alex sighs. She’s lost her ability to argue, too, and now everything she says is so emptily apologetic that Kara almost wishes she’d get angry again. “Do we have to rehash this talk over and over again? You know I won’t change my mind.”

“You don’t understand,” Kara says. “She’s the strongest person I know, but this—this tears her apart and I have to watch it. Do you know what’s that like? To love someone so much and know that they’re suffering because of _you_?”

“Kara—”

“I have to lie to my wife every waking moment of my life, and for _what_? It’s not fair.” Unwanted tears spring to Kara’s eyes, voice going thick with them. “I’m sorry. I always attack you about this like it’s your fault. But it’s just mine.”

“It’s not your fault, Kara, c’mon,” says Alex gently. “You and Lena are too alike. You’re both always trying to take blame for things beyond your control. I think you need to forget about this.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kara mumbles. “ _You_ don’t have to act human all the time.”

“We’ll figure it out together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone. We all have your back.”

“I know,” Kara says. She adds an obligatory, “Thanks, Alex,” before she changes the subject.

She wishes Kal-El were here so she could talk to him instead. He wouldn’t understand either, but…well, Kara misses him so much she wishes he were here regardless.

.

.

.

They visit Clark.

It’s a bleak Friday morning, so chilly outside that the air is biting. Kara’s wearing a giant coat Lena had insisted she take, even if she doesn’t really feel cold like Lena does. In contrast, Lena is a shivering mess, cheeks so red that she complains about it every two minutes.

“How aren't you cold?” she demands, taking Kara's warm hand in her freezing ones.

“I'm an alien,” Kara replies cheekily. She knows if Alex were here she'd have a heart attack at the not-so-jokingly-said truth, but this is the _one_ human joke she’ll fight tooth and nail to keep—even if she says it so often that it’s a tired one.

Lena just rolls her eyes. “You're hilarious,” she deadpans, but she leans closer to Kara, absentmindedly stroking the back of her hand with her thumb.

She always tries to hide her worry, but Kara can see it in the little things; she grasps Kara's hand like she's afraid she'll break. She even frowns to herself when she thinks Kara isn't looking, and blinks back the beginnings of tears once they reach the edge of the cemetery.

Kara hates that Lena insists on coming with her every time. Of course she likes having her here, but she hates what it does; it disrupts Lena’s peace, and with everything else on Lena's mind this time of year, this is just another stone on the pile.

A fresh bouquet of flowers on Clark's grave is waiting when Kara arrives. If it isn't Lena's doing, it's Lois’s, or Alex's, or Lucy’s, or James's. Kara brings a bright bouquet of daisies to add to it, and gives Lena's hand a reassuring squeeze before she ducks down to set them gently on the gravestone.

Lena always watches with a pained expression, right on the edge of terribly sad and dangerously angry. Kara wishes she could do anything to smooth it away, but she isn’t sure how she can do that without ruining everything Clark’s ever wanted for her.

All that grief Kara never shows comes out this time of year, instead, and it's always so much easier than expected, to rest her forehead on the ice-cold stone as hot tears drip off the tip of her nose. The frame of her glasses dig into her skin, and she wishes she could feel it hurt; she wishes she could sink her nails into her palm, to focus on something grounding like pain, to distract her from thinking about everything she's lost that she'll never get back. 

After a few minutes Lena crouches beside her, burying her face into Kara's shoulder. “I'm so sorry,” she whispers, voice trembling as if she, too, is about to cry. She shivers, from the cold or some other reason, and repeats, over and over again, “I'm so sorry.”

The position is awkward, but Kara surrenders to the embrace, sinking against Lena with one more shuddering intake of breath. “It's okay,” she whispers against Lena's forehead. “I'm okay.”

Lena's breath comes out in little puffs of warmth against her neck. “I can let you have some time alone if you want,” she says, and Kara only grips her tight in response.

“No,” she replies a beat later, almost unnecessarily. “I want you here.”

Lena finally starts to cry, breathless sobs pressed into Kara’s shirt. She carries so much guilt even though Kara has told her time and time again it's not her fault, and cries for Kara's loss without knowing just how heavy the loss in her heart actually is, and Kara hates that she can't say a word to her about it.

They stay at the cemetery for almost two hours. Most of that time is spent in silence, and Kara’s legs feel cramped by the time they get up off the floor. Lena is still holding on to her, as if letting go would ruin their little bubble, and Kara wraps her arms around Lena’s middle tightly.

“Do you want to go home?” Kara asks.

Lena shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says. “Let’s go somewhere.”

 _Somewhere_ always means Noonan’s. It’s their place, sort of. It holds good and bad memories alike; good because that’s where Kara used to work when she first met Lena, and bad because they always go there after a visit to the cemetery. But maybe that’s not always a bad thing, to be able to go back despite everything.

It’s not the most romantic place in the world, but it’s always been there when they needed it. And that means more to Kara than anything else.

Lena orders coffee and two pastries while Kara takes a seat at their booth. It’s started raining outside, barely a light drizzle, but as the sky grows darker the rainfall grows harder. Fitting, for today. Might as well be gloomy enough to match the mood.

When she worked here, Kara always liked the rainy days. It meant the cute brunette who always hung around stayed even longer, reading giant books and stealing smiling glances with Kara every time she came over to refill her cup. She’d been so far gone over Lena that she knew—somehow, she knew she was the one.

Lena used to call it fate. “What are the odds,” she would marvel, “that our families already know each other? It’s like…like we were destined to meet. Fate, if you will.”

But she doesn’t say that now. She doesn’t mention it if she can help it, actually. Now she’s much more cynical about what she calls it. Luck, she says, or a miracle. A modern day Romeo and Juliet, but not quite.

It’s as if Clark Kent stole something that could never be replaced when he died.

.

.

.

Lex sends Lena letters every Saturday.

Lena burns these letters every Sunday morning.

Kara wraps her fingers around a steaming mug of tea and watches her do it today. The fireplace they otherwise don't use is just a means to dispose the unopened letters as they come, and Lena shoves every piece of junk mail she can find to help start the temporary fire as quickly as possible.

“We need to move,” Lena mutters venomously as she strikes a match. “Maybe then he'd take the hint.”

“We're still on the lease for another two years,” Kara reminds her, amused, as she takes a sip out of her mug.

“Afterwards, then. We can go to another country—maybe Spain? Or France. I like the idea of Paris.” Lena sighs as she flicks the match into the fireplace. "Anywhere but here."

“I like here,” Kara tries, but it's clear Lena can't be consoled about this.

“We should go _somewhere_ ,” Lena says, sliding the glass door shut as the flames engulf the thick envelopes. “I need a break.”

Kara feels a pang of worry at the despondency on Lena's face. “Hey,” she says, “what's wrong?”

“I should be asking _you_ that,” Lena says, and she gets off the floor so she might drape herself over Kara's chair; she kisses the crown of Kara's head almost apologetically, and Kara tugs her closer until she's half on her lap.

“I'm not the one moping about traveling,” Kara says, but when Lena remains quiet, she continues: “I'm okay. Don't worry about me.”

“I'm your wife, I'm supposed to worry about you,” Lena murmurs, resting her cheek against the top of Kara's head as Kara smooths her hands over Lena's lower back.

“Well I'm worried about _you_ ,” Kara says. “Do you really want to travel? We can fly to Paris tonight if you want. Just say the word and I'll—” She stops when she remembers, and she clarifies weakly, "I'll book plane tickets."

“You know I hate flying.”

“...we can't exactly take a train to Europe, Lena.”

“I just—I wish we could escape somewhere, just be us for a little while,” Lena admits. “No jobs, no murderous brothers, just us.” Her voice is low, tired, as she fully sinks against Kara.

Kara hugs her close and wishes she could tell her. But what she says instead is, “Let's do it then. Let's take the honeymoon we never had. What do you say?”

“It's a little cold for that,” Lena says, though she loops her arms around Kara's neck with a hint of a smile tugging on her lips. “And what about work?”

“We can go in a few months,” Kara suggests. “We'll plan for work, ignore all our responsibilities and—”

Lena kisses her then, stopping Kara mid-sentence as she nudges Kara's chin up. “I love the idea,” she breathes against Kara's mouth, even if it's said a tad remorsefully.

“Don't sound so excited,” Kara jokes. Her neck protests the position, but she remains looking up at Lena, teasing smile slowly fading at the withdrawn expression on Lena's face.

“I'm in my head, I'm sorry,” Lena says. Kara's forehead gets a kiss in apology, and then Lena slips out of the embrace. “My mother called.”

“Bad news?”

“She’s my mother, it’s always _something_ bad with her,” Lena mutters. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t answer anyway. But she left a voicemail about Lex, and—I don’t know. Maybe I should block her number.”

“You haven’t talked to your mother in over a year,” Kara says carefully. “Have you ever considered…”

“What, pretending she’s going to change? No.” Lena heads into the kitchen to grab a glass of wine, like she usually does these days. “I mean, obviously I’ve thought about it. She’s still my mother. But I wouldn’t do it.”

“Lena,” Kara starts, “if you’re doing this for me—”

“I’m _not_ ,” comes the muffled reply. Lena pokes her head into the living room. “Do you want some wine?”

“No.”

Lena reemerges holding an entire bottle. It seems she’s forgone a glass entirely. “Maybe I do need a vacation,” she says thoughtfully. “Do you know what she told me this time? That they’re going to put Lex on house arrest. Give him one of those—those things, I don’t know what they’re called. The ones that alert the police if he tries to leave.”

“Wait, what?” This is the first Kara’s heard about this; usually Alex keeps her up to date with Lex Luthor’s status. “Why would they do this now?”

“Who knows? The perks of having money and power means it doesn’t matter,” Lena says dryly. “I bet she’s been planning this since they put him away. It’s only a matter of time before he gets parole or something. Fuck.” She takes a swig from the bottle and shakes her head, mostly to herself. “I think we’re out of whiskey.”

“It’s a little early for day drinking,” Kara says, though she takes the bottle when Lena hands it over. “Let’s focus on something positive instead.”

“What? What’s even remotely _positive_ about something like this?” Lena asks, burying her face in her hands as she sinks down onto the couch.

“Well…you’re looking at the official commissioned artist for the hotel on 27th,” Kara says. “They asked me for three pieces! That’s huge, right?”

Lena lifts her head up, stunned. “Are you serious? Kara, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, you _jerk_?” She drags Kara out of her chair so she can kiss her, gripping onto Kara’s collar giddily and laughing too hard to properly do so. “I knew you’d get it,” she whispers, hands coming up to Kara’s nape and lingering there.

“Sure you don’t want to call your mother? She’d be thrilled to know I’m not longer a good-for-nothing struggling artist.”

“Stop it,” Lena says, pinching Kara’s neck playfully. She looks so proud, so _happy_ , that Kara can’t resist kissing her again; slow, unhurried, and sweet. She tastes the wine on Lena’s tongue, and feels the curl of Lena’s lips when she smiles, and wishes she could live forever in this feeling.

“I get the down payment in two weeks,” Kara says. “We can save up for that vacation sooner than you think, you know. Or something else. Maybe we can finally take in that furball of yours, give our future kids a pet.”

“He’s not my…” Lena stops mid-argument. “Kids?” Her voice is soft now, questioning, but not without some uncertainty. “Do you want to start thinking about kids?”

Kara’s eyes widen. “I didn’t mean—I mean, I know you’ve always said you don’t know if you want kids. So we don’t have to think about it at all if you don’t want to, I promise.”

“No, it’s,” Lena swallows thickly. “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, but—”

“We’re still young,” Kara quickly interjects. “Really. And we’re not financially stable anyway, so we can table this idea for a few years, right? No pressure.”

“Right.” Lena cups Kara’s cheek, biting her lip hesitantly, but there’s relief in her eyes that betray her feelings. “Would you really adopt the cat?”

“I would, even if I’m allergic.”

The joke works to break Lena out of her head. “You’re not allergic,” she huffs indignantly, but she’s smiling again. “One of these days I’m going to get Alex to prove it.”

“You can’t believe anything Alex says. She likes you better,” Kara says. “Oh! Speaking of, I should tell her about this too. She’ll be mad at me if I keep her in suspense any longer.”

“Yes, tell her to come over so we can properly celebrate,” Lena says, pushing Kara away with an excited laugh. She throws on a sweater that she finds hanging off the back of the couch (that looks like it’s Kara’s), and heads back into the kitchen to actually get some wine glasses. “And tomorrow I’m taking you out, okay? Just us. We haven’t had a date out in _forever_.”

“Okay.” Kara texts Alex to urge her to come over, meanwhile resting her cheek against her hand as she fondly watches Lena stand on her tip-toes to reach the top cabinet. “Nothing too fancy though. I don’t get paid yet.”

“It’ll be nothing _fancy_. What about a movie? We haven’t gone to the movies in a while. We can have a lowkey kind of night…”

Kara’s struck with that fuzzy, enveloping shock of _love_ that warms her from head to toe. “A movie it is,” she says, and she decides right then and there that things are going to change after tonight.

.

.

.

It’s snowing.

“We should’ve stayed in,” Kara says as they make their way out of the movie theatre. Already Lena is shivering, gravitating closer to Kara unconsciously. “Look, the snow’s sticking. What if the roads are dangerous?”

“We’re five minutes away, drama queen, we’ll be alright,” Lena snorts.

“What if we walk home? It’s close enough. The car will be fine here, we parked out on the street.”

“Kara, I love you,” Lena says, “but if you think I’m going to walk in this weather you’re out of your mind.”

So Kara relents. Lena steals the keys out of her back pocket and sticks out her tongue playfully, and Kara only smiles, smiles because she’d like to remember Lena like this forever—speckles of white snow melting in her hair, single dimple deepening by the crinkles of her smile, tugging Kara along with one insistent hand.

Kara forgets about everything else. She’s supposed to be thinking about her future with her wife—a future that she gets excited just _thinking_ about—and she’s going to come clean, so she allows herself to get wrapped up in feeling carefree tonight.

She takes the keys back before Lena can get into the driver’s seat, though. “Let me drive,” she says. “I’ve been practicing.”

“Alex says you’re terrible,” Lena says, grinning at Kara’s affronted expression as she slides into the passenger seat. “She says she fears for her life every time.”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration, I’m very safe,” Kara says. “You’ve never complained!”

“I have complete faith in you, darling,” Lena says, obviously not one hundred percent truthfully. Before Kara can start the car, Lena leans over the seat to kiss her sweetly; it makes Kara relax, however slightly, and surrender to the chaste intimacy.

Lena doesn’t let her get too far away, resting her forehead firmly against Kara’s and exhaling deeply. Kara smiles even if Lena can’t see it, and asks,

“What?”

“Nothing. I like this,” Lena says. She’s smiling, too, when Kara gets a chance to lean away; it’s a dreamy smile, tender and content, and it only makes Kara’s own smile grow.

“I like this, too,” she says. “I’m so lucky to have met you.”

“That’s usually my line.” Lena brushes a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear, and places a kiss right on the curve of her cheek. “Meeting you...it was something like fate.”

It’s the first time Lena has said that in a while, and it stuns Kara so much that she blinks, owlishly, in response. Her mouth falls open as she tries to find the right words to reply with, and she doesn’t know what it is—the shock of the moment, the shy way Lena drops her gaze—but she never sees the truck coming.

What really clues her in is the first squeal of the tires; next, the way all the blood drains from Lena’s face. Her mouth moves. Kara thinks she might have just shouted _Kara_ , a cry wracked with anguish and _terror_ , but that’s all she’s able to get out.

There has never been a moment slower than this. Kara tries, she tries, but she’s so late that all she can do is cradle Lena tightly to her body as she tries to shield her from the impact. In this moment she feels so much: the heat of Lena’s skin, the screeching metal of their car door against her fingertips. She’s not able to both hold Lena and keep the other car at bay, and so she squeezes her eyes shut and hopes it’s over soon.

A spray of glass whips around her as the window shatters. The car door receives the worst of the hit; the metal crumples like a sheet of paper, useless against the much heavier truck that has crashed into them, and Kara has no other choice but to propel herself and Lena out of the other window.

They land as a heap on the pavement. Kara is holding Lena as tightly as she dares, Lena’s head tucked right beneath Kara’s chin. She is afraid that any wrong amount of pressure might make the situation worse, and already the panic is beginning to set in. Her breathing is rough, heart pounding in her ears, and then there’s nothing but silence. Silence that’s somehow louder than everything else combined.

Kara’s chest feels tight like she can’t breathe, even if her burning lungs show otherwise. There’s a numb coldness tingling throughout her body, especially heavy in the pit of her stomach, but even with this paralyzing panic coursing through her she manages to strain her ears listening for Lena’s heartbeat.

It’s there—faint, but steady. Kara nearly sobs from relief.

Lena has passed out. There’s a gash on her forehead and blood trickling down the side of her face, but she’s alive. She’s likely going to have a hell of a concussion, but Kara resolves to worry about that later. Right now, she has to throw caution to the wind and get Lena to a hospital first.

She lowers her glasses to check where the other driver is. He’s fine, shaken up but not injured, body stiff in shock as he doesn’t move to get down from the car. Maybe he thinks he’s crashed into an empty car since it’d been parked, or maybe he’s still gathering his bearings. Either way, there are no other witnesses around.

As gently as she can, Kara gathers Lena’s limp body in her arms and takes off into the night sky. The snow is falling heavier now; she wishes she had something to wrap Lena in to shield her from the cold. But all she can do is fly as fast as possible—in a way that’s safe enough for Lena to withstand—and she doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she lands in the parking lot and the first of her tears fall onto Lena’s cheek.

“Please be okay,” Kara chokes out. She’s strong enough to lift tons, and yet she feels like her knees might buckle under the weight of Lena’s still body. “Please.”

Somehow she manages to make her way inside. Lena is rushed away on a gurney and Kara stands in the waiting room, clothes so wet they stick to her skin uncomfortably. Someone offers her a blanket, and she slowly sinks into a chair to wait as her wife disappears.

They ask her what exactly happened. Kara doesn’t have an answer.

.

.

.

“I brought coffee.”

To someone who doesn’t know Alex Danvers, the greeting might seem rude—lazy, even. But Kara knows her sister, and the way her fingers go white as they grip onto two styrofoam cups tells her everything she needs to know about how Alex is doing.

“I don’t know if they’ll let her drink it,” Kara says, trying to smile but failing miserably. She’s jittery, restless, and part of her wants to take the coffee Alex has brought and part of her knows she ought to refuse.

“So what,” Alex gestures loosely around the empty ER, “what happened? Is she okay?”

“It’s all my fault. I flew out of the window—”

“I’m sorry, you did _what_?”

“And now she’s…she’s probably going to have a terrible concussion, and she’s in a medically induced coma and we don’t know when she’s going to wake up and it’s all my fault, Alex, I should’ve seen the truck coming!”

“Kara. Kara, it’s okay.” Alex sets the coffee aside to grasp at Kara’s hand, forcing her to quiet down and listen. “What else did the doctors say?”

“They…they said everything looks fine,” Kara breathes, the urge to cry pricking at the back of her eyes again. “She’s going to be okay.”

“Then let’s focus on that.” Alex places an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer until Kara relents and rests her head against Alex’s. “And we’ll be right here when she wakes up, okay?”

“Right. Okay.”

“By the way, do you know your clothes are really wet?”

“Yeah. Long story. Well, it’s a short story, but I don’t think you’ll like the story.”

“...forget I asked.”

Eventually, Kara finds herself succumbing to exhaustion. She’s half-asleep on Alex’s shoulder by the time midday rolls around; she’s been up all night waiting for some sign of Lena to wake, and hasn’t thought it through entirely. Alex being here is enough to make her slow down, even just for now, because the knowledge that she can wake Kara if something helps is extremely comforting.

And that is exactly what she does. “Kara,” Alex says, “Kara, wake up. Lena’s awake.”

In an instant, Kara’s senses are on high alert. “She is?” she manages to get out, remnants of her exhaustion slowly fading at the news. “How long has she been up? Have you seen her yet? How is she doing?”

“The doctor said she’s stirring,” Alex says. “I’ll let you be there when she wakes up, okay?”

Kara gets to her feet. She’s never felt as human as she ever has in this moment, raw hope and _relief_ coursing through her as she makes her way towards Lena’s hospital room. She doesn’t even look at the numbers on the walls; she’s following Lena’s heartbeat, and it guides her exactly where she needs to be.

The first glimpse she gets of Lena on that hospital bed feels like a rush of cool air has come over her, an unparalleled lightness making her head swim. Lena is dressed in a hospital gown, alarmingly pale against white sheets, lazy eyes half-lidded as she fully wakes; she’s absolutely a sight for sore eyes.

Lena grimaces at the first hint of overwhelming light. She blinks confusedly as she gathers her bearings, but otherwise doesn't wince to show much pain; Kara hopes that's a good sign. Curiously, Lena's eyes land on Kara, but there’s no relief to be found in them. In fact, she’s staring at her with no trace of emotion at all, really, before she focuses instead on the nurse.

“Give her some space,” the nurse cautions Kara. “She’s going to be a little groggy.”

So Kara refrains from rushing to her wife, and instead of taking her hand she stuffs both hands in her pockets instead. “Hey,” she gets out, edging closer to the hospital bed. “You’re…okay. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Lena squints at Kara for a moment, as if searching for something that never comes. “Where am I?” she asks when she finally speaks, her voice hoarse and scratchy like she’s been out of practice of speaking far longer than she actually has.

The nurse takes over from there. “Hi, Lena,” she says. “You’re in the hospital. You were in a car accident, and you hit your head pretty hard, but you’re going to be just fine. How do you feel?”

“My head hurts,” Lena says, bewildered, as she presses her fingertips against her temple.

“That’s to be expected,” the nurse says with a polite smile. “I’ll see if I can get you anything for the pain.”

Lena nods, and then her eyes flicker back to Kara almost curiously. “I’m sorry, are you here for my statement?” she asks, and it takes Kara a moment to realize she’s talking to her. “I’m afraid I won’t be of much help, officer. I don’t remember a thing about the crash.”

“I’m not…the police,” Kara says, casting a worried glance at the nurse for backup. “Is she under the effect of the meds?”

The most the nurse offers is a similarly heavy look, and then she’s turning towards her patient without answering Kara’s question. “Lena,” she says. “I’ll get the doctor back in here soon. I think we need to run a couple of tests, see how you’re doing.”

Kara can’t wrap her head around what’s happening. “Wait, wait,” she says. Desperately, she meets Lena’s eyes, trying to find something grounding—anything that will explain what’s going on. “Lena, you do know who I am, don’t you?”

The confusion on Lena’s face is answer enough. “No,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

In that moment, in one split second, Kara feels faint. Paper-thin. It's as though her heart has been ripped out of her chest and placed on display without so much as a warning. “What do you mean?” she stammers. “I’m your wife. I’m—” Again, she looks to the nurse, but the nurse is already moving to usher her out of the room.

“Mrs. Luthor, a word?”

Kara lets herself be nudged out of the room. The last thing she sees is Lena watching her, mouth partly open in shock, and the sound of the hospital room door soundly clicking shut might as well have been as loud as a gunshot.

“What happened?” Kara says, so dizzy she needs to lean against the wall to remain upright. “You said she was fine. Isn’t she fine?”

“Head injuries aren’t as black-and-white as we might think,” the nurse says. “There could be some minor impairment, if there’s enough swelling in her brain tissue against her skull—”

“ _Minor_?” Kara echoes. “She doesn't remember me. How is that minor?”

“Mrs. Luthor, please.” The nurse is sympathetic, but there’s nothing she can do, and Kara knows it. “This is actually quite normal. Swelling like that might very well cause memory loss. We won’t know the extent of the damage until we get a chance to speak with her, but rest assured, she is otherwise perfectly healthy. You’re welcome to wait in the waiting room again. I’ll be back soon, once the doctor is finished.”

“Okay.” Kara’s voice comes out small. “Thank you.”

She walks back to the waiting room in a daze. All she can think is that nothing, _nothing_ , has prepared her for this.


	2. almost too much for my soul alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sad so i'm just posting this new chapter (which is not very sad but, you know, it Could be!!)
> 
> sorry for the pacing of this story btw - it's kinda fast since, like i said, this was meant to be a oneshot. and not a very long one at that. but since i failed @ that, just read it as you would a long oneshot and pretend it's decent okay shhh. also i started writing this literally a year ago & i feel like, as it progresses my writing style shifts a little bit? i went through this & changed a few small things, but otherwise it's a little less clean than my current writing style i think. one day i'll go through and edit this properly lol.
> 
> thank you all for reading! i'm so touched...ily all for taking a chance on this fic that is so different from my usual writing repertoire 💕

Kara meets her wife for the second time after a long day at the studio.

There’s clay caked under her fingernails and she’s wearing a shirt that’s a few sizes too big, but the doctor has finally given her the go-ahead to come back and Kara can’t wait any longer. She brings a bouquet of flowers she bought on the corner of a street somewhere; unknowingly, she has nervously wrung the newspaper around it until it’s wrinkled beyond repair. 

The receptionist waves her on through after a quick check-in. Kara is so attuned to Lena’s heartbeat that she starts to automatically follow it, but—it’s not leading to Lena’s room. It’s leading somewhere on another floor.

When she asks the receptionist to double-check Lena Luthor’s room, all he does is shrug and say that they’ve moved her to the west wing of the hospital. Apparently, that’s the high-end side of the building. 

Kara knows it’s something they can’t afford. But she pushes back the worry, gets the new room number, and does it all with the best smile she can muster.

It’s only when she steps into the new room that she realizes something’s wrong. She has never met her mother-in-law before, but she’s seen enough pictures of Lillian Luthor to recognize her in person. There’s obviously some recognition in Lillian’s eyes, too, and she narrows them coldy as Kara slowly shuts the door behind her.

Lena stops mid-sentence at the intrusion. She looks better than last time; there’s some color in her cheeks, and the remnants of her smile linger even as she speaks. “Hi, again,” she says. “I…I never got your name last time.”

“Kara,” Kara gets out. From the corner of her eye she sees Lillian smirk, and she has to swallow hard in order to gather the strength to ignore it. “Kara…well, it’s Kara Luthor now. But it used to be Kara Danvers.”

“Danvers,” Lena echoes, like she’s trying the name out on her tongue, but nothing seems to click. Nevertheless, she smiles politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Kara nods, and only then does she let herself glance at Lillian. “Hi,” she says, sticking out her hand to shake. “You must be Lena’s mother.”

Lillian makes no move to take it. “And you must be the wife,” she all but sneers. “What a pleasure.”

“Wait.” Lena glances between the two of them, stunned. “You two have never met? How are we married if you haven’t met my mother?”

Lillian’s smirk falls, and Kara drops her gaze to the floor. She knows the story well, but she’s not about to drop it in the middle of the awkwardest family reunion of the century.

It’s up to Lillian to change the subject. “I think I should go, dear,” she says. “I’ll be by later.”

“I know, I know, you’re busy,” Lena says, smile falling briefly before she brightens again. “Bring Lex if you can, will you? I know he’s going crazy pretending he doesn’t care. He’s such a dork.”

Kara involuntarily bristles at the mention of Lex. Lillian avoids Kara’s eyes as she bids her daughter goodbye, and then she’s gone; Kara is left to deal with the aftermath.

She rests the flowers by Lena’s bedside and tentatively takes a seat. “How are you feeling?” she asks.

“I’m okay,” Lena says. “As well as someone with a head injury can feel, I suppose.”

“Right.” Kara clasps her hands together in her lap lest she do something stupid—like reach over and kiss her wife’s forehead. “So, the doctors told me you’re missing…about maybe four years of your life.”

“It’s all blank,” Lena says. She looks apologetic, but only about as apologetic as a stranger might be to a random person off the street. “I keep trying, and trying, but I can’t…I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine. Really. We just have to fill the blanks, right?” Kara jokes, but all she gets in response is another tight, polite smile. “The good news is the doctor said you’re all clear to go home tomorrow. I’ll be by first thing in the morning, so we can—”

“Wait,” Lena says uncertainly. “Will I be going to your house?”

Kara’s mouth snaps shut. “Um,” she says a beat later, “yes…because it’s technically _your_ house too.”

“Right.” But Lena’s looking at her weirdly, in a way Kara can’t quite distinguish. It’s not fearful, her look, but it’s certainly not an expression Kara has ever seen on Lena’s face before. “Not to be rude, but—I don’t know you. And I’m sure you’re lovely. I’m sure the house is lovely. I just…I can’t imagine how it’s going to feel. Being in a strange environment with a head injury doesn’t exactly seem safe.”

Kara shakes her head. “No, of course, that was hasty of me to assume,” she says. “Um, we can talk to the doctor and make arrangements to wait a little longer if you’d like?”

Lena hesitates, like that hadn’t been the answer she’s waiting for. “Maybe I should go home with my mother instead,” she says.

The quiet suggestion is enough to make Kara’s head spin. Now would be a good time to mention that Lena is estranged from her mother. It would be the perfect time, actually, but the words form on Kara’s lips and never come out. 

“Okay,” is what she settles on, in her bewilderment. “If that’s what you want.”

Her fingers itch to touch Lena, to reach over and hold her, but the scared stranger in that bed isn’t her Lena; it’s someone she doesn’t even know. And Kara can’t bombard her with any expectations, even if she is her wife.

“Thank you,” Lena says, dropping her gaze to her lap. Her shoulders are tense, and her jaw tightly clenched, but not in a way that means she’s uncomfortable. She just seems at a loss for words, like she isn’t sure what she can say. 

Kara clears her throat. “I brought you some clothes,” she says, through it takes some effort to get the words out. “If you wanted to change. And I was thinking we could head down to the cafeteria to get some food?”

“That would be great.” Lena being so formal about the whole scenario almost makes Kara laugh; she’d been like that when they first met too, shyer than one might expect the daughter of a powerful family to be.

There’s no arguing how lucky it is that Lena has only lost the past four years of her life, but Kara can’t suddenly help but feel miserable about it. She doesn’t try to show how devastated she is, to lose the one person she never imagined she would; for Lena’s sake, she puts on a brave face.

Kara is still keeping face as they make their way down to the cafeteria, humoring the not-so-subtle way that Lena intensely surveys her. She doesn’t blame Lena one bit about being curious about the wife she doesn’t remember, but the expression Lena dons is never anything but surprised. Like maybe Kara isn’t the type of girl she’d imagined marrying, or maybe the idea that she _is_ married is still too much to wrap her head around.

Kara piles food onto a tray as the cafeteria line inches forward, wondering if she should be the one to break the awkward silence as Lena hovers by her elbow. “So,” she says conversationally, “is there anything you want to know? About your life.”

“Besides why you haven’t met my mother yet?” Lena’s eyes burn into the side of Kara’s face as she uncomfortably looks away. But her voice goes quieter, and less accusatory, in a nanosecond. “I guess I don’t know where to start. When did we get married?”

“Two years ago.”

“Okay. Two years ago.” Lena nods to herself. “Are we happy?”

A question like that is nothing but innocent, yet it gives Kara a strange feeling, like she should be able to give an answer without hesitation, but ultimately cannot. “I think so,” she finally says, which only makes Lena regard her suspiciously. “No, I’m sorry, that was a poor choice of words. Of _course_ we’re happy. Times are just…a little tough, right now.”

Lena’s gaze softens. “Does this have anything to do with my mother?”

“I, ah, I don’t—it’s not really my place to say.”

“I see.” Lena does seem to think this over, mouth twisting into a pensive frown. This pinched expression remains long after Kara’s paid and they’ve picked a spot at one of the cafeteria tables; it doesn’t help that everything is dim and light blue and absolutely _ugly_ with this poor lighting.

Kara doesn’t know how to act. She can’t be a wife right now, but she also can’t bear to be a stranger; the most she ends up being is accomodating, which must fall somewhere under the latter. “I can help you pack if you’d like?” she says, awkwardly. “I can show you where all your stuff is. Just give me a date and I’ll make sure I’m not in the studio then.”

“You have a studio?”

“I’m an artist,” Kara says, “for a living, if that was your next question.”

“It wasn’t.” Lena is very conspicuous when it comes to the way she studies Kara’s face, but at the very least she doesn’t seem bothered by the idea of being married to her. “The nurse has been talking to me about the memory loss. She keeps saying it might come back, once I get back into my job, into my house, into my normal routine…”

“Yeah.” Kara clears her throat. “She told me the same thing.”

“So I,” now, shyly, Lena fiddles with the corner of a napkin, “so I’ve thought about that now. I hadn’t thought about what this is like, for you.” When she looks back up, there is an apologetic curve to her smile. “I don’t want you to worry if I leave.”

Kara just nods, and takes a bite out of her flavorless turkey sandwich. It’s dry. “I’d like to be able to visit, if you’d let me,” she says, once she’s forced herself to swallow it. “If your mom would be okay with that too, I guess.”

“Well that’s the thing,” Lena says. “If my chances of recovery are better staying with you, why would you agree to let me leave with my mother instead? Don’t you _mind_?” There is a genuine curiosity to her words—and a distinct lack of judgement.

“I’d never want you to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want,” Kara answers honestly. “And I would never want you to feel uncomfortable with your choice.”

Lena’s lips part breathlessly, but it takes her a moment to actually speak. “I see,” she finally says. “Then would you…be okay with me going home with you?”

“Of course. You don’t have to ask, it’s your home too,” Kara says. She tries to keep her overwhelming sense of relief in check as she says it, but, the way Lena almost laughs tells her she’s not really doing a good job of it.

( She doesn’t care. Not when she has her wife back.)  
.

.

.

Kara wakes up earlier than usual. Earlier than Lena, even.

She places blame partly on the couch, which definitely isn’t meant for sleeping. But they do only have one bedroom, and—without question—Lena is going to sleep on their bed. Kara can handle an odd ache in her neck if it means Lena’s comfortable.

Already the house feels different. Quieter. Kara makes breakfast as the sun begins to rise, an irony that doesn’t escape her. If her Lena were here she’d be aghast, already trying to push Kara out of the kitchen before she’s managed to attempt anything.

But this version of Lena who’s lost four years of her life is different. She wakes up half an hour later and comes into the kitchen just as Kara is scrambling eggs, wearing a sweatshirt that’s really Kara’s. Kara doesn’t mention it.

“Good morning,” Kara says, smiling as brightly as she can muster. “Did I wake you?”

“It kind of smelled like smoke,” Lena says, offering a small smile of her own. She snags a piece of bacon from a plate and takes a bite before Kara can stop her, and only pauses once she notices the way Kara’s jaw drops. “What?”

“Nothing. Um. You’re just, you’re a vegetarian now,” Kara says.

Lena looks down at the bacon in her hand and gently sets it aside. “Oh,” she says. “I’m not surprised. I always meant to change my diet.” She picks up an apple instead, and peels off the sticker with her thumb and forefinger painstakingly before she even washes it; that’s one of her many habits, and just watching it makes Kara’s heart swell with warmth.

Kara turns back to the stove when she hears the oil pop. “Jess is opening the studio,” she says. “Alex is coming by to drive you there, since we’re…without a car now.”

“Jess? Alex?” Lena gives her a bewildered look. “I don’t know who these people are.”

“No, of course not. Right. Alex wanted to have a get-together last night when you were set to arrive, but I told her it would be overwhelming.” Kara scrapes slightly overdone eggs onto a plate, and then cracks two more for Lena. “You and Jess run a music studio together.”

“A music studio.” Lena frowns. “I don’t have a musical bone in my body.”

“You play the piano. And you’ve picked up the guitar in the past year. That’s…something.”

“But that won’t help me run a music studio,” Lena says. “I don’t work with my brother anymore?”

The mention of Lex makes Kara stiffen involuntarily. “No,” she says cautiously. “He’s…not running Luthor Corp as of now. Your mother has taken over in his place.”

“That’s strange,” Lena murmurs. “And very unlike him. How is he doing? Did something happen?”

“I don’t really know the details,” Kara lies. “I would ask your mother about that.”

Lena goes quiet after that. When Kara turns back to look at her, she sees Lena intently studying the walls, pensively chewing on her apple all the way. She wanders out towards the living room, and Kara turns off the stove and tentatively follows.

She finds Lena picking up the framed picture of their wedding, the one that’s a little blurry and has half of Winn’s finger at the top of the shot. Lena’s eyes are closed in that picture and she hates it, but Kara won’t let her put it away; the image of Lena laughing, nose scrunched up and forehead pressed against Kara’s neck, is one that takes her breath away every time.

Lena doesn’t seem to notice that Kara has followed her. Her eyes are glued to the picture, and a small frown makes its way onto her face, but a thoughtful one; Kara slips out before she drives herself crazy trying to figure out what it means.

When Alex shows up, this is how she finds them: Lena sitting on the couch surrounded by photographs, and Kara making far too many types of breakfast food for one meal.

“Nice to see nothing’s changed,” Alex jokes, startling Kara from her third omelette attempt. “Well, except Lena doesn’t know that you’re not allowed to use the kitchen, yet.”

“Hey! You’re…oh, oh no,” Kara says. “I meant to tell you that I don’t think Lena’s up to go back to work yet. I’m sorry I made you drive out here.”

Alex shrugs. “No big,” she says, snagging a piece off a pancake. “I clock in in an hour.” She lowers her voice as Kara comes close, and says, “Lena seems…okay. Considering everything that’s happened.”

“I don’t know what to do, Alex,” Kara sighs, slumping against the kitchen counter. “I don’t know what to say or what to tell her. I’m a stranger to my own wife.”

Alex doesn’t say a word; she just comes and hugs Kara close, and presses a kiss to her hair in that way she does that feels like home.

“This really sucks,” Kara mumbles, and that makes Alex snort.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it,” she says. “Are you going to get any work done, or are you going to stick around here all day?”

“I don’t really want to leave her by herself right now,” Kara admits. “But I can’t…I can’t _hover_.”

“Then it seems like you have your answer.” Alex tears off another pancake corner and says, “I can bring by dinner, later.”

“I’ll let you know if she’s up for it,” Kara says. “I think it’s still a little too overwhelming.”

And that is what ultimately leads her to give Lena some space. She knows if she were in Lena’s shoes, she would feel lost; the last thing she would want is a wife she doesn’t know hovering at her elbow trying to speed along the recovery process.

She leaves Lena in their living room with a cell phone, a box full of photos, and a promise to be back in time for dinner. She hopes—foolishly, maybe—that things might be easier by the time she comes back.

It is always easy to immerse herself in her art. She works best when she’s sculpting, when her hands are caked in clay and she cranks her music so loud that even superhearing can’t hinder what is _finally_ coming to fruition.

But there’s a small, worried voice in her head that keeps her from staying too late. Usually if she’s inspired enough she’ll burn the midnight oil, but today she makes sure to take a break for lunch. Maybe Lena would be open to ordering takeout. Baby steps, right?

Unfortunately, when she props open their front door, she finds that Lena’s gone. Her cell phone’s been left behind, the door’s been left unlocked, and there’s not even a note. It makes Kara’s heart sink to the bottom of her stomach.

.

.

.

“Thank you for coming, Ms…Danvers.”

“It’s Mrs. Luthor, actually.” Kara shakes Lillian Luthor’s hand nonetheless, even when it takes her a great deal of patience to rein in any passive-aggressive smiling that Alex swears she does (and Kara suspects she’s right about). 

“Of course,” Lillian says, her own smile one step away from a sneer. “Lena insisted we call you. Please, take a seat.”

For such a large, imposing house, their backyard patio is surprisingly modest. Kara bites back any petty observations, though, because just as she’s taking a seat at the small wicker table Lena emerges from inside.

“Kara,” Lena breathes. “You’re here. I’m so sorry, I—I forgot the phone and I didn’t know who else to call.”

It takes Kara a moment to realize she’d shot to her feet at the first sight of her wife. She reddens, and very hastily takes a seat when Lillian casts a quizzical glance her way. “No, I’m sorry,” she says. “I should’ve checked here first. I’ve been looking everywhere for you and it didn’t even cross my mind that you’d be…”

“With her family, exactly where she’s meant to be?” Lillian cuts in. “Well. I can see why your _sister_ is the detective of the family.”

Kara refuses to sink to her level. “I don’t exactly have your phone number, ma’am,” she says all too politely. “Even if I wanted to contact you, I couldn’t.”

Lillian narrows her eyes at the honey-sweet tone, but before she can reply, Lena clears her throat and effectively cuts through the tension.

“Mom,” Lena says, and it’s halfway between confused and sharp. “It’s not her fault.”

“No, of course not, dear. I’m just saying.” Lillian reaches out her hand to take Lena’s, in order to guide her towards the table. “Come sit, Lena. We’ll order tea. Your father will join us shortly.”

“And Lex?” Lena asks hopefully. “I still haven’t seen him. Isn’t he even the slightest bit worried?”

“He is, he is,” Lillian replies without missing a beat. “But you know your brother. Such a busy man. We’ll all go and visit him soon, he’s so much better at receiving visits than he is at making them.”

Lena nods, but it’s a hollow notion. “Right,” she says, and oddly enough, it’s Kara her eyes lock on. “Why do I get the feeling you’re all hiding something from me?”

The piercing suspicion coming from Lena is too much to bear; her eyes are narrowed, and her jaw clenched sharply, and Kara knows that means she’s two seconds away from being angry. Kara is about to spill _everything_ , secrets be damned, but then Lillian smoothly cuts in.

“We do have a lot to discuss,” she says. “But let’s not ruin dinner. Trust me, there will be plenty of time to deal with semantics later.”

Lena’s jaw unclenches slightly. “Fine,” she says at last. “As long as it’s nothing bad, right? You’d have told me by now.” 

“Oh, Lena. Don’t be so distrustful all the time,” Lillian sighs. “Let’s focus on having a nice time tonight, shall we? I’ve _missed_ you. So has your father.” She waves for their butler to come forward with a bottle of wine, and he pours a generous glass for everyone seated. “Speaking of, why don’t you go see what’s keeping him?”

Lena looks as though she wants to press the issue further, but she doesn’t. Instead she gets to her feet and disappears back into the house without even a single glance backwards, unaware that she’s left Kara in the lion’s den alone.

Kara quietly takes a sip of what must be very expensive wine to distract herself from her company. Lena would know how to properly taste it, probably, but Kara can’t exactly ask her about that. And when she lowers her glass, she locks eyes with a very haughty Lillian Luthor.

“Let’s try to understand each other, Ms. Danvers,” Lillian says. “Tell me, do you really want Lena to destroy her relationship with her family all over again?”

“This isn’t about what I want,” Kara says. “It’s always about what _Lena_ wants. And three years ago all she wanted was to get away from you.”

“She made a mistake.”

“No, she made a _choice_ ,” Kara says. “But I’m not going to put her through that again. I don’t want her to be hurt.”

“She’s already hurt. You hurt her.” Lillian’s tone is cold, so cold, and she rests her hand flat against the table as though preparing to curl it into a fist. “I know you’re like him. My daughter never listened to me, but I know the truth.”

“And what’s the truth, _Lillian_?” Kara doesn’t realize she’s dangerously close to snapping her fork in two before it’s too late; luckily, Lillian doesn’t notice.

“The truth about Clark Kent? About you? I think you know.”

“Clark Kent is dead,” Kara snaps, though her voice cracks and betrays her firm facade. “Your son killed him.”

Something in Lillian’s expression darkens. “My son,” she says, “is a visionary. It’s because of your family that he’s gone.”

“Your son is gone because he’s a murderer,” Kara retorts. “And you know it.”

“Is this how you won over my daughter? Filling her head with lies? You poisoned her against me.” As sharp as her accusations are, the threat Lillian poses is minimal. 

But still…but still. The words hang heavy in the air and Kara feels like she might choke on them.

“I know it’s hard for you,” Kara finally can’t help but admit; she’s not cruel enough to pretend otherwise. “I know it was hard to lose her. I know you—love her. In your own way.” She swallows hard and continues, even when faced with stony silence: “But I love her too. I love her so much that this is _killing_ me.”

The stone exterior doesn't crack. “If you really love her,” Lillian says, “you would understand she needs us. You may think you’re enough, but her family is _here_. This is where she belongs.”

“I don’t ever want to dictate what I think Lena needs,” Kara says. “I won’t tell her anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I want her…I want her to make the choice of whether she forgives you or not.”

“How _generous_ of you,” says Lillian, word dripping with annoyance, and Kara resolves to reach for her wine glass again.

She’s spared of any further argument with her mother-in-law when Lena returns with Lionel Luthor in tow. She’s beaming as they speak, and Lionel’s smile is as wide and crinkled and _free_ as hers is.

That smile alone is what makes Kara’s heart break. She can’t begin to imagine ruining Lena’s mood, let alone disrupting her life as abruptly as she had the first time.

Lena takes a seat beside her. “I’m really sorry about today,” she says, quietly, as Lionel engages Lillian in a private conversation of their own. “I know you must have been worried.”

“I was,” Kara admits. “But you’re safe, so, that’s all that matters.” She places a hand over Lena’s without thinking, and the most surprising thing is Lena seems more guilty than weirded out when she flinches away. “Sorry. Um. Force of habit.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry.” Lena bites her lip and looks away. “I have something to tell you.”

“Okay…” Kara says cautiously, and Lena sighs, heavily.

“I—went to see Veronica.”

And that, well. It’s enough to make Kara almost shatter her wine glass.

.

.

.

There is nothing easy about adjusting to this new change.

Kara’s trying. _Lena’s_ trying. But it’s not that simple, to try. It takes more than they both can give.

The truth of the matter at hand is that Kara is busy with work, except she’s so distracted she doesn’t get much done. Another truth is that, as far as Lena knows, she’s in love with her ex. At the very least, there are some lingering feelings

(“We broke up a year ago. Or, I guess, five years ago. I don’t even know why I started missing her so much. I had to ask,” Lena had said. Quieter: “Are you upset?”

“Of course I’m not upset,” Kara had replied, had been surprised to see that Lena looked to be near tears over the admission. “You lost your memory, Lena. That’s not something I would ever be mad at you for.”

“Not _that_ , Kara, I mean—are you upset I still love her?”

Kara hadn’t been able to answer right away. “No,” she’d remembered to say. “No. That’s only what happened then. I could never be angry about your past.”)

That is what is hardest—for Lena to come to terms with what she believes is her present actually being her past. Kara’s worst fear has become realized: Lena is beginning to resent the life they’ve built together.

Kara knows why this is. Lena is the kind of person who firmly believes in self-sufficiency and establishing a reputation that’s _hers_ , not her family’s. Now she’s being expected to fit a mold of a life that isn’t at all what she had envisioned.

Lena is pretty gracious about it; she accepts that Kara is an important part of her life, and invites her to spend as much time as she wishes with her and her family.

Unfortunately Kara is left feeling out of place every time she does. Tonight Lillian Luthor is hosting some sort of anniversary party, and Kara has come as Lena’s date. It’s not like it’s a grueling task for _Kara_ —who would follow Lena anywhere—but she suspects it is a lot harder for Lena, who she suspects only invited her along because it’s what is morally correct.

At least, that’s the impression Kara is getting. “You look beautiful,” she says as they walk up the driveway, hands accidentally brushing once or twice.

Lena feigns a smile; there is barely any semblance of happiness in it. “You look nice too,” she says faintly, but it’s clear her attention is kept elsewhere.

Kara tries another angle. “So this is a big deal, huh? Your parents’ anniversary?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lena says. “It’s just…weird knowing I’ve missed so much, you know? I don’t know how to act.” She wrings her fingers together nervously, another habit that Kara recognizes all too well.

“They’re your people,” Kara reassures her, as much as it hurts to admit. “They just want you to be yourself. Not someone pressured to change to fit the last four years.” She allows Lena a moment to let the words sink in before she adds, “That’s all I want too, you know.”

“But I have changed.” Lena stops right before the door, unconsciously rubbing at the wedding band she insists on wearing—though Kara is uncertain if it’s out of guilt or a genuine hope it will help her remember—yet another nervous tic. But unlike the first, this one is a new development that Kara has picked up on.

“Just in small ways,” Kara assures her. “And who knows? Maybe change doesn’t always mean for the better. You’re—you’re great any way you are, Lena. Anyone who doesn’t accept that isn’t worth your time.”

Lena stares at her for a prolonged moment. “How do you do that?” she demands softly.

“Do…what?”

“You’re so,” another pause, “you’re so nice to me.” Without warning, Lena reaches out to fix Kara’s tie, the warmth of her smooth fingers brushing against the hollow of Kara’s throat. For a single charged second her eyes flick up to meet Kara’s, a burning curiosity held in them, but in the blink of an eye it’s over. She quickly steps away in order to briskly knock at the front door.

Dazed, Kara turns, too, just in time to catch the door opening. They’re greeted by a butler of the Luthor family—someone Lena knows by name—and then escorted to the backyard.

The grandeur is back. The humble patio is replaced by numerous circular tables draped with fancy lace covers, complete with expensive bottles of champagne and crystal glasses to decorate them; it’s the kind of atmosphere that feels like just breathing might cause something to break. Kara looks to Lena for a cue of what to do, but Lena catches sight of someone and, after lighting up quite noticeably, apologizes to Kara as she ducks away to greet an old friend.

Kara accepts a glass of champagne that a server offers her. Though it won’t stave off the awkwardness of what’s going to be a long night, she’s sure she has a part to play.

She doesn’t know anyone here, though, so she sits at a table and sips at champagne and tries her best not to look for Lena. She listens in on Lena’s heartbeat to ground herself because she can’t _help_ but worry, but otherwise she plays her part of a considerate wife and remains put.

“So _you_ must be the wife.”

Alright, maybe more than one part. “Yep, that’s me,” Kara says. “Lena’s wife.” And as she delivers this line with an apt cheeriness, she meets the scrutinizing eyes of Veronica Sinclair.

“I thought so,” Veronica says, tapping a blood-red nail thoughtfully against equally sharp lips. “You have that look about you.”

“Sorry, are you saying I look like I’m _supposed_ to be Lena’s wife?”

“No,” says Veronica matter-of-factly. “You’re just the only one out of place.” She has a glass of champagne in her hand already, and she takes a delicate sip before going on. “Did she tell you she came to see me recently?”

“She did,” Kara divulges rather reluctantly, afraid that admitting she knows will be the final nail in the coffin for her embarrassment.

But to her surprise, Veronica only nods. “She’s convinced she has lingering feelings,” she says. “Four years ago the exact same thing happened.” She tilts her head to scrutinize Kara further. “Funny thing is she broke up with _me_ , so I’m not quite sure what she was hoping to find coming back.”

Kara bites her tongue and tastes both coppery blood and sweet champagne and the only thing running through her head then is that this is _ironic_. An hour ago if you were to ask her worst fears, a prominent one would be Veronica Sinclair admitting a mutual love for her amnesiac wife. But it seems like Veronica is as baffled by the thought as Kara is.

“Anyway.” Veronica sets her lipstick-stained glass down. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for what you two are going through. I hope it works out.” 

Kara wants to ask more. Wants to ask what, exactly, Lena said. Wants to know the _truth_ of her wife’s feelings towards their predicament.

But all she says is a faint, “Thank you.”

“And good luck,” Veronica adds. The cryptic way she nods towards something beyond Kara’s head has her turn; it’s Lillian and Lionel Luthor making their grand entrance.

When she turns back Veronica is gone.

But on the bright side, Lena rejoins her shortly afterward. “Did I see you talking to Veronica?” she asks curiously, accepting a flute of champagne on a passing tray. It’s hard to say, but judging by the faint pinkness of her cheeks it’s probably her third or fourth of the night. “What did she have to say?”

“Not much, just,” Kara shrugs. “Wanted to say hi. I’ve met her before, just never…” She doesn’t know what she means to say. All she knows is she blurts out, “She seems really nice.”

“Really? I’ve always thought she was an acquired taste to strangers,” Lena says. There’s a wistful catch to her voice, and it hurts to hear.

Kara clears her throat. “So how has it been to be around everyone again?” she says, to change the subject. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’ve missed everyone,” Lena says. “They keep saying I’ve been away all these years. Is that true?”

“Yeah, um, I mean—you’ve been busy,” Kara says. “I don’t really know much about anyone here.”

Lena absorbs that information with a curious glint in her eye. “Huh,” she says. She crosses her arms across her chest and studies Kara suddenly; “So what’s really going on with me then? Why don’t I hang out with my old friends? Why don’t I even spend time with my _family_?”

Kara hesitates. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my _wife_? Who else is supposed to tell me?” Lena’s expression darkens. “I was under the impression that you wanted me to _remember_. Why are you hiding the truth from me?”

“Maybe if you talked to your mother, or Lex—”

“But not you.” Lena’s gaze is searching, and ultimately, what she finds must be disappointing. “How convenient.”

“Lena, I…”

“No. Don’t—don’t say anything,” Lena sighs. “I’m frustrated, Kara. I don’t know what to do. But it’s not fair of me to take it out on you.” She sinks into a chair at a nearby table, reaching for the unopened bottle of champagne Kara suspects is just there for decorative purposes. “My mother looks at me like I’ve finally come home. And I don’t know why, but it doesn’t feel _right_.”

Kara carefully takes a seat beside her. “I wish I had all the answers,” she says. “But truthfully, Lena, I don’t even know the extent of what happened with you and your family. I’m not the person to ask.”

Lena unconsciously rubs at the bare skin of her arms as she surveys the bustling party around them. “I don’t understand why my mother hates you,” she says after a pregnant pause. “I know I don’t know you, but…” She trails off, glances over her shoulder and really seems to drag her gaze over Kara’s face. The flutter of her eyelashes is a look Kara knows—that kind of open curiosity that made Kara work up the guts to actually ask her out, once. “You seem like you care.”

Kara sees her resist the urge to shiver, and wordlessly slips off her suit jacket to drape it over Lena’s shoulders. “Of course I care,” she says. “It’s _you_.”

For a minute nothing else is said between them. Then Lena suddenly says,

“Do you want to dance?”

The question is a surprise, but Kara manages to come out of the momentary freeze it causes remarkably quick. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” she says, and even dares to mirror the small smile Lena gives her.

It’s moments like these—the hesitant, fleeting romantic ones—that make Kara miss Lena the most. She knows it’s a weird thing to say, considering that she’s _here_ , with her hands on Lena’s waist and with the reassuring comfort of Lena’s arms around her neck. But she misses everything else: the knowing grins, the stolen kisses, the lipstick Lena can’t resist pressing to her collar when she gets the chance.

“So,” Lena says conversationally, “what am I supposed to remember about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t know anything about you, about us…” Lena trails off. She pensively bites her lip, then embarrassedly laughs over Kara’s shoulder. “I feel like I’m on the most awkward first date ever. Is that just me?”

“Well, I mean, I’m here trying my hardest to impress you, so,” Kara says, feeling her own sheepish grin form. “Take that as you will.”

“Then I guess we’re both trying too hard?” Lena suggests. “I know I’m your wife, I just…don’t _feel_ like I am. And I don’t know how to act in a way that’s okay for you.”

“You don’t have to act any kind of way for me,” Kara says. “I just want you to act how you’re really feeling. I know you’re not going to suddenly fall in love with me or anything, I—only want you to try to get your memory back. Don’t worry about how I feel.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you?” Lena’s gaze is piercing; she’s always been able to weaken any resolve of Kara’s, and today is no different.

But today Kara can’t afford to let herself waver. “Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, it hurts. Because I love you. But as much as our relationship means to me, it’s not the main focus here. _You_ are.”

Lena’s hands splay out over her shoulders in an almost comforting gesture. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

“Don’t,” Kara says. “Really. I’m okay. Let’s just focus on you.”

“Okay.” But Lena looks dismayed at the prospect, and Kara wonders what she’s said wrong.

.

.

.

Sometimes Lena sits down to play the piano.

That means that sometimes Kara makes a flimsy excuse to head over to her studio. She loves Lena’s playing—has always loved Lena’s playing—but it reminds her of the bad days, and the _lies_ , and so she can’t handle listening to it right now. Not when everything’s so different.

So she flies up to the roof and sits there, listening in on the sounds of the city and wondering just how much more of this she can take. She hates that she has to walk on eggshells around her wife, but it’s even worse to walk on eggshells around _herself_. Every little thing she sees reminds her of the life she and Lena used to have. Of what could have been. And it hurts a hell of a lot more than she’s let on.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until the first hot tear splatters on the pavement below. Then from there the tears keep coming, keep coming like they’ll never stop, and she buries her face into her arms and sobs into the cool night air and wishes she could go back in time and change everything.

“Mind if I sit?”

And Kara stiffens. “What are you doing here?” she croaks, haphazardly wiping at her blurry eyes.

Kal-El takes a step closer. “I heard about what happened with Lena,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Kara looks at him and wishes she didn’t hate the symbol on his chest—wishes she didn’t hate her own family crest in that very moment. “Thanks,” she mumbles. “Who told you? James?”

“Yeah.” Kal takes a seat beside her anyway. “How is she doing?”

“She’s not really making progress in remembering anything, but she’s adjusting to her life again,” Kara says, which isn’t untrue. “Well, her life before me, anyway. She’s still working out her old memories too, so it’s all been very confusing for her.”

“And for you,” Kal says softly.

“Yeah. And for me.” Kara taps her fingers along the side of the building just to give her hands something to do. “So you flew all the way from Metropolis to tell me you’re sorry? You could have just called.”

“I wanted to see you,” Kal says.

“And Lois.”

Kal has the decency to hang his head. “And Lois,” he echoes. “How is she doing? You two still talk, don’t you?”

“Of course we do. I’m all she has,” Kara says. _Connected to you anyway_ , she means, but Kal looks forlorn enough that she supposes he connects the dots all on his own. “She misses you.”

“I miss her too,” Kal says wistfully. Just once Kara wants to hear him say he regrets it. Just once she wants to hear him say he wishes he could’ve done it differently.

It’s what has always kept her obedient, what has always kept her unwavering in her own decision. His sense of self-sacrifice is something she _admired_ , something she’d always kept in mind. 

But after everything…after a deeper look into these circumstances…Kara is finally going to be selfish.

“I haven’t told Alex this,” she says. “But once Lena gets her memories back, I’m telling her. About you, and about me.”

“Kara…”

“You can’t say anything,” Kara says. “Not yet. Listen to me first.”

Kal looks like he wants to argue, but with a resolute nod of his head, he quiets.

Kara sucks in a shaky breath. “She’s the most important person in my world, Kal,” she says. “And she’s proved time and time again that she’s nothing like Lex. If I keep hiding this from her it’ll turn ugly.”

“That’s noble, Kara,” Kal says. But he looks uncomfortable, and he can’t seem to help himself from saying, “But what about everything I’ve sacrificed? Everything I’ve done has been to keep you safe. If you change your mind now—”

“I’m not done,” Kara says sharply. “I-I looked up to you for the longest, Kal. But when Clark Kent died you changed. I know you think protecting me is a noble cause, but look at how you’ve ruined your life! Lois thinks you’re dead. How can you keep putting her through this pain? How can you live with yourself?”

“I made a choice,” Kal says. “Lois would understand.”

“Lois would call you a fucking idiot,” Kara retorts. “And you know it.”

Clark is silent for a long time. When he finally speaks, it’s regretfully: “Don’t you think I wanted that? But I had to choose. I had to choose to save the world over the woman who _is_ my world. I had to keep being Superman.”

“Is the cost of your humanity worth it?” Kara demands. “Because Lex Luthor is basically on the route to freedom. You haven’t saved anyone from him.”

“I saved you,” Kal says, and it’s said a touch sadly, like he doesn’t understand why Kara is fighting him over this. “I don’t want to lose you, Kara.”

“I’ve already lost you,” Kara says, inhaling sharply enough to bring tears to her eyes. “I’m not going to change my mind. So please, just…go.”

“Kara—”

Kara gets to her feet. “I’m going to buy dinner for my wife now,” she says, and doesn’t look at him. She can hear him, can feel his dejected presence hanging around like a shadow, but she refuses to let him wear her down like he always inadvertently does.

As she makes her way to the rooftop stairs, he speaks. “I hope Lena gets better,” says Clark, so low only she can hear him.

Kara doesn’t turn around even then. “Me too,” she says, and then she starts descending.


	3. keep telling me that it gets better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm throwing this update out into the wind - it's kind of a filler, but also more? i figured i was overdue to update this fic while i work on the ending so ✌️
> 
> my head is all over the place lately y'all so forgive me for being so slow w/everything! i'm going to rewrite a small bit of ch 1 bc [erin](http://suchplausibilities.tumblr.com/) is wonderful & helpful & reminded me that i do not do enough research for these things asjhdjs so next update it'll definitely be cleaned up a little more. 
> 
> and thank you all sm for reading! it warms my heart every time i get an email saying someone's commented/left kudos 💕

Jess has taken Lena’s loss of memory remarkably well.

For weeks Lena has been resistant to the idea of relearning the ropes of her job. She’s adamant that music is not her passion, and never has been her passion, but at last—three months into this frustrating memory loss—she decides to take her chances.

Part of being reintroduced to her work environment means that Jess comes over for dinner to formally meet Lena again. Kara doesn’t really know Jess well; she’s always been Lena’s friend, loyal to a fault to Lena alone. (It’s why, the first time Kara met Jess, Jess hadn’t liked her very much.)

But around Lena she’s different. Around Lena, Jess breaks into a smile like it’s the easiest thing in the world even while they pick at Kara’s attempt at spaghetti and meatballs.

“Kara’s treating you okay?” Jess asks, to be an ass probably, but she looks relieved to be here all the same. “If not, you’re welcome to crash at my place instead.”

“Kara has been very welcoming,” Lena laughs, “but I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

It’s lighthearted teasing, but it settles uncomfortably in the pit of Kara’s stomach. She knows Lena didn’t intend for it to come out so… _formal_ , like she’s talking about a stay at a hotel, but that’s how it comes across.

“I miss having you at the studio,” Jess says. “The replacement guy keeps on doublebooking by accident. He’s an idiot.”

“So what exactly _is_ my job at the studio? Kara’s never said,” Lena says, then clarifies, “Well, I suppose I never _asked_. I have to admit, I would’ve thought I completed the interning process and gone to work with the family business by now.”

“Really? You kind of hate the business side of our studio,” Jess says. “You always leave that part up to me.”

Lena frowns, moreso out of confusion than anything else. “Then what is my area of expertise?”

“You love doing the numbers, keeping the paperwork up to date, but you _really_ love interacting with the acts that we book. I mean, once I caught you jamming with one of the indie groups when their guitarist couldn’t make it.”

“Huh.” Lena absorbs this information like any other: quizzically, but intrigued all the same. “Am I a good guitar player?”

“You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen,” Jess swears. “I would know. I’m the one who taught you.”

They immediately delve into memories of that time; how Lena, stubborn as she was, refused to take it easy and worked her fingers raw for months on end to learn. Jess quips how it had been a rough time for Kara, which makes Lena blush furiously and makes Kara send Jess her best _I’m going to kill you_ stare (which, sadly, is not very effective).

Kara watches them talk and remains quietly in the background. She tops off their wine, and politely clears the dishes they couldn’t take more than a few bites of, but otherwise allows the two to catch up. She _does_ order pizza, and that gets her the most genuine smile out of Lena all night.

She eventually excuses herself to do the dishes, leaving Jess and Lena by themselves in the living room to talk. She’s not proud of it, but she immediately listens in to the conversation.

“So…” This is Lena, equal parts hesitant and mystified. “How do I usually act around Kara? Am I affectionate, or…is that something I’ve never really managed?”

“Oh, you two are so affectionate it’s gross,” is Jess’s immediate reply. “You once filled her art studio with flowers on your anniversary. Thanks, for that, since you woke me up at 4 a.m. to help.”

“Even physically? Affectionate, I mean,” says Lena, and it’s clear it’s an awkward subject from the way she rushes it out.

“I’d say so,” Jess responds. “I mean, you two are always kissing, and holding hands…and I could go into what I know about your sex life if you want. I know too much for my own comfort.”

“No, that’s—that’s not necessary, thank you.”

Jess’s voice grows softer. “I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling, Lena,” she says. “But no matter what, I want you to know you’re _happy_. Kara’s a great wife. And you love her so much it’s like she’s the only person in your world.”

Lena sighs. “I’m so _confused_ ,” she admits. “If it’s true that I really love her, then all I can do is wait for my memories to come back. But what if they don’t? What happens then? Am I obligated to stay with her? She is a nice person. Really. And sometimes when she does things I can imagine…I can imagine how easy it could be to fall in love with her. But is that enough reason to live with someone you don’t really know?”

“I don’t know,” Jess says, thoughtfully. “I guess it comes down to what you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean do you _want_ this? Do you want a wife and a job you’ve grown to love? Because if you don’t like the idea of this being your life, that’s okay. You can go back to Luthor Corp, get your business side of the pie, move away from Kara if you have to,” Jess says. Each word is like a stab of pain, and Kara feels her heart sink.

At first Lena doesn’t say anything. Then she exhales tiredly, like the idea has weighed heavily on her own heart. “I’ve thought of that,” she admits, and Kara doesn’t know what hurts worse; that she couldn’t bring this up to Kara, or that she’s bringing it up to _Jess_ , someone she’s only known for the past three hours. “But it would be so selfish. I’m a married woman, and I have a responsibility to save my marriage _and_ my job. I can’t flake out on you or Kara.”

“Kara would understand,” Jess says, which is true; as much as it hurts to hear, Kara can’t stand the idea of Lena putting herself through hell on Kara’s behalf. “And _I_ understand.”

Another pause. “I _do_ want to remember,” Lena says. “I love my old life, but I want—I want to know how I fell in love. I want to know how I got into music as a career. I want to know how I _grew_ out of my old life.” Quietly, she asks, “Do you know why I left my family in the first place?”

“No, actually,” Jess says, and she sounds surprised at Lena bringing it up. “I didn’t want to ask, and you’ve only brought them up before to complain.”

“Complain about what, exactly?” Lena’s voice lowers a fragment.

“The usual? You complain that your brother won’t stop sending you letters, and that your mom keeps calling you. You never actually talk about your father,” Jess says.

“I see.” There’s the sound of glasses clinking, presumably to clear the coffee table. “Thank you, Jess. I-I’m sorry I’m not…well, me.”

“Of _course_ you’re you. You’re Lena Luthor, remember?”

Lena gives a faint squeak of surprise; Jess is probably hugging her. They continue to discuss Lena’s job afterwards, and Kara finally forces herself to stop listening in.

She could finish the dishes in a few minutes if she wanted to—could use her powers, even—but she remains at the sink and goes through the motions, dunking her hands in water so hot if she were human her skin would turn an angry red. When that’s done she starts to clean out the fridge. Then the stove. Anything, really, to distract herself from what’s going on in the living room.

By the time the kitchen is spotless Jess is gone. Lena finds Kara sitting on the floor, head against the cold metal of the fridge, staring up at the cottage-cheese ceiling and thinking. Not about anything in particular. Just thinking.

Lena almost startles to see her. “Oh. Kara,” she says. “I thought you had gone to bed.”

_How, if my bed is the couch you were sitting on?_ is what almost comes out. Kara’s not drunk but she feels like she is; drunk on frustration, drunk on anger. 

But her anger isn’t directed towards Lena. So Kara catches herself and lamely replies, “I thought I’d let you two catch up without me.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Lena starts the kettle, rummages through the cupboards for the tea. She’s become used to the house again, or at the very least has stopped asking Kara where everything is. “Do you want some tea?”

“Sure,” Kara agrees. What she really wants is a bottle of alien liquor, but she’ll have to settle for tea.

“I was wondering if I could ask you something,” Lena says as she continues to prepare their drinks, taking two mugs out of the pile of freshly washed dishes.

Kara is so raptured in watching the mechanical movements on Lena’s part that she nearly doesn’t answer. “Yeah, anything,” she finally says. She prepares herself for the blow of Lena asking if she can move out, if she can stop trying, but all that _actually_ comes out is,

“Would you mind taking me to see my brother? I—I wasn’t sure who else to ask.”

“Your brother?” A surge of icy _shock_ crawls up her spine. “Where is he?”

“His mansion, on the outskirts of the city,” Lena says, and she snorts to herself. “Who knows why he decided to relocate _there_.”

Kara swallows what feels like a stone lodged in her throat. “Of course I’ll go with you,” she croaks. “When?”

“This weekend? If that works for you?” Lena appears relieved at the idea. “I don’t know why he hasn’t come out to see me yet, but I suppose Luthor Corp keeps him busy…”

Her tongue feels like it’s dried up in her mouth. No words can form, and Kara—Kara sits powerless listening to Lena talk about how silly her brother is.

The kettle begins to whistle. It’s a piercing cry, like a warning.

It isn’t until Lena looks to her, shyly expectant, that Kara finds herself. “This weekend works,” she says, and tries to smile.

“Thank you.” Lena mirrors the weaker smile with a much more beautiful one before she pours out their hot water. “Is green tea okay?”

“Yeah, that’s—fine.”

Kara gets up off the floor to join Lena at the table. She doesn’t allow her tea to steep long before she takes her first scorching sip, wishing she could feel it burn.

Lena is much more patient. She cups the mug in her hand as though she is absorbing its heat, but otherwise lets it be. “Have you…” she trails off. “Have you met Lex?”

Kara takes painstaking care not to shatter the mug in her grip. “I have,” she says. She doesn’t clarify that it was only once or twice, and the last encounter burned into her memory is that of staring down at Lex in an orange jumpsuit from the stand.

“ _Oh_.” Lena perks up, slightly, at that. “He likes you, right? My mother is one thing, but he’s a good guy.”

“Your whole family hasn’t really warmed up to me yet,” Kara laughs it off, heart racing as it is. “Lex included.”

“Oh.” This time it comes out dejectedly. “That’s weird.”

_Weird indeed_ , Kara thinks as she downs half of her tea in one go.

“I should go to sleep,” she blurts. “I have a long day tomorrow.”

“Right, of course.” Lena takes her first tentative sip out of her mug. “Good night.”

Kara washes out her mug before she leaves. Unconsciously, her eyes linger on the sight of Lena at their table far too long. For the first month or so she was entirely too hyperaware of Kara’s presence in the house. Now she’s relaxed enough to throw her hair into a sloppy bun and willingly sit in one of their uncomfortable kitchen chairs to drink tea.

It’s progress, but not in the way Kara had hoped for.

At the doorway it hits her that this reminds her of the Lena she met all those years ago. She stops and says, “Lena?”

Lena looks up; a tendril of hair curls against her cheek, tender and unassuming, and Kara aches for a time where she could tuck that strand of hair away. “Yes?”

“The first time I saw you,” Kara blurts out, hands twiddling with the edge of her sweater sleeves, “you came in after your first day interning at Luthor Corp. You were so tired, but you were…you were _so_ intriguing. I think I was gone from the minute I met you.”

She doesn’t give Lena a chance to reply. She spins on her heel and makes a beeline for the door; she can’t cry where Lena can hear.

.

.

.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

This is the first break in silence since they’ve begun their walk past the looming gates. Lena is uncharacteristically quiet, an unsaid fear simmering in her eyes that Kara can’t ask about. Kara, on the other hand, is no stranger to being afraid; her palms are sweating and she can’t stop running through the tiniest of sounds all around to make sure there’s no outside danger.

She’s _jumpy_. And she shoves her slick hands into her jeans pockets and tries to mask it with, “Yeah, no, of course.”

“Thank you for…well, everything,” Lena says. “Um. For not giving up on me, really. I know it’s—it’s hard to spend time with my family.”

“I don’t mind,” Kara assures her. _They don’t need to like me as long as you do_ , she wants to say. But she can’t. That kind of sentiment might have reassured Lena before the accident, but it will do nothing but pressure her now.

“I’ll make sure Lex is on his best behavior,” Lena swears. It’s ironic enough that Kara could laugh.

_Ironic_ might be an apt descriptor for this entire trip, come to think of it. The Luthor mansion is nothing short of magnificent, but when Kara steps foot on the pristine waxed floors she shivers; this house may be beautiful, but it is distinctly cold to its core. How something so beautiful can house such an ugly secret…it could even be poetic.

A butler takes their coats as he ushers them inside. Lex is nowhere to be found. Kara half expects him to come swaggering down the grand staircase to greet his guests like this is a Disney movie and he’s the evil lord of the castle.

“Lex?” Lena’s voice echoes through the hall. “Are you here?” When the only reply she gets is the faint echoing of her words she says, “He’s probably in his office. Maybe we should go up there.”

Kara eyes the winding stairs and replies, “Maybe,” without actually making an effort to do so.

The butler returns sans coats but with two gold-lined glasses of champagne. “From Mr. Luthor,” he says. “He invites you two to join him in his study.”

Kara clumsily pretends to drop her glass once it’s placed in her fingertips. “I’m _so_ sorry, I’m a klutz today,” she says, pretending to be flustered as she gazes down at what could be poison soaking into the soles of her shoes. “Let me clean this up.”

The butler assures her he’ll fetch her another, but Kara is quick to refuse the offer. She does a subtle scan of Lena’s glass under the guise of wiping at her lenses, but can’t see anything wrong with the liquid. A scan of the spilled drink also suggests it’s perfectly normal champagne. Either way, Kara would sooner die than accept anything from Lex Luthor; whichever route, she’s sure, would still ensure her death.

Lena leads the way upstairs. The fact that she is so at ease that gives Kara pause; Lena looks like she _belongs_ here, like this place holds nothing but fond memories. Kara supposes that is true for Lena four years ago.

Lex’s study is nothing like Kara had expected it to be. Much like other aspects of Lex, it doesn’t reflect a madman. Bookshelves line the walls, and an extensive setup of beakers and books cover an array of desks. It’s a normal place. Tidy, but lived in. 

And Lex himself is another story. He stands as they enter, but remains behind his desk—a move Kara zeroes in on immediately. He appears to have cleaned up a little since his last trial; he is as gaunt and expressionless as ever, but at the sight of Lena all traces of bitterness vanish, eyes brightening as though he’s cheered up. Kara doesn’t buy the act for a second.

“ _There_ you are, oh my God,” Lena laughs, throwing her arms around her brother to hug him tightly. “Where have you _been_ for so long? I’ve missed you.”

“Busy,” Lex sighs, as if he’s been away for business instead of secured in a max security prison. “Far too busy. But thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” Lena smiles at him so broadly Kara has to look away. “I hope you don’t plan on staying cooped up here. Why don’t we sit in the patio outside? Maybe have lunch there?”

Lex’s smile droops the tiniest bit. “Ah, I would,” he says. His eyes flicker to Kara, as blue as ice and even colder. “But I’m a little tied up here at the moment.”

Understanding dawns on Kara. His ankle monitor, the one he’s taking great lengths to conceal from his sister, won’t even allow him to step a foot in his own backyard.

Kara takes great satisfaction in that, if anything. “Hi, Lex,” she says, interjecting herself into the conversation with her cheery greeting. “Remember me?”

“Kara Danvers. As if I could forget.” Lex shakes her hand, eyes narrowing. “What a pleasure.”

“It’s Luthor, actually,” Kara corrects him, tightening her grip a tad harder than a human might. “I hope it’s alright that I came with Lena.”

“But of course,” Lex says, the only sign of anything amiss in his expression the faintest flicker of pain in his eyes. “I do remember we used to have such riveting conversations.” He takes a seat, smoothly gesturing to a chair in the front of his desk. “Won’t you two join me? We have so much to catch up on.”

Kara is well aware of the fact that there is only one chair. Lex smirks at her as if to say _checkmate_.

“Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting two of you,” Lex goes on, as airily as can be. “I’m sure Lena can fit in your lap, though, Kara.”

Kara grits her teeth. “You know what? I wouldn’t want to interrupt your sibling reunion,” she says. “I think I’ll take a tour of the grounds.”

Before she makes her hasty exit, a soft touch to her shoulder stops her. “Kara, don’t go,” Lena says. “He’s just teasing. Right, Lex?”

“Right,” Lex echoes. “I have to say, I’m sorry about this predicament of yours. It must be very hard to have your wife _indifferent_ to you all of a sudden.” The nonchalance with which he regards Kara, the empty apologies he makes—it’s enough to send anger coursing through her veins, enough to make her lose control like she never has.

“I can’t do this,” she says, jerking away from Lena’s hands. “I can’t—I can’t—”

She stumbles out of the room and breaks off into a run. She doesn’t dare fly away, because even in her state she would loathe to prove Lex Luthor right. 

Somehow she ends up in the front yard, falling onto the wet, dewey grass and sobbing into her arms. She thought she could handle it. But suddenly the weight of all her lies is coming down on her shoulders and it’s too _much_ , too much paired with Lena’s loss of memory, too much to look Lex Luthor in the eye and pretend he’s her brother-in-law and not the man who killed her cousin.

She’s not sure how long she stays there. For the first time in ages she mourns Clark Kent, the man who was more of her cousin than Kal-El ever was. She has never felt so alone. Never, for as long as she’s come to Earth.

Usually this would be a sign to reach out to Alex. Alex has always been the one person who _understands_ , the one person that Kara can count on for anything—anything except her guilt regarding Lena. And that guilt has come out full-force, enough that she’s left a trembling mess on the Luthor grounds with nothing but her loneliness for company.

She is still staring emptily into nothing when she hears Lena shout her name.

And there Lena comes, running, barely able to catch herself before she falls over. “Kara,” she says breathlessly, “are you okay?”

Kara wipes at her already dry cheeks and tries to muster a smile. “Yeah, of course,” she says. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was worried about you.” Lena takes a seat on the grass as well, casting a concerned glance in her direction; Kara could get lost in those green eyes, even if they’re as sad as they are now. “I asked Lex why you were so upset.”

“And what did he tell you,” Kara laughs humorlessly. “That I hate him? That I’m the one who ruined his life?”

The worry in Lena’s eyes only gets more pronounced. “No,” she says. “He told me he’s on house arrest, but…he said he hurt someone you love. That’s all I can get out of him.”

“Huh.” Kara balances her hands on her knees, not even bothering to mask how tightly she wrings them together.

Lena sighs. “I don’t understand, Kara,” she says. “Why can’t you tell me what actually happened? I’ve known Lex my whole life and I _know_ that can’t be the whole story. Please _tell_ me.”

“I can’t do that,” Kara says, sucks in a quivering breath as the urge to cry again itches at the edges of her chest. “I can’t—I can’t be the one who ruins your relationship with your family.”

“If the truth is going to ruin my relationship with my family then I should probably _know_ it, shouldn’t I?” Lena demands. “Whatever it is you think you have to protect me from, I can handle it!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kara says, and she knows her voice is hollow, _exhausted_ , because she really has had enough of lying. “You’re the only person I can’t hurt. You’re the only person I’ve ever…” She sighs and feels it reverberate through her bones. She steadily refuses to meet Lena’s eye when she finishes, “Please don’t ask me to be the one who breaks your heart.”

Lena is quiet beside her for a long moment. And then, “That is an incredibly selfish way to think.”

“I know.” Kara exhales. “But I…” She forces herself to look back at Lena, forces herself to memorize the green of her eyes and the pout of her lips and the worried creases of her forehead. “I’ll tell you everything, if your family refuses to. I-I just think you should ask them first.” 

“Really,” Lena huffs. “After the lengths you’ve gone to avoid telling me the truth, you’d change your mind? Forgive me for being skeptical.” The worry morphs into borderline _anger_ , and Kara resists the urge to place an arm around Lena’s shoulders.

“You’re my wife,” Kara says quietly. “I would do anything for you when it comes down to it.”

“But I’m not your wife.” Lena’s words aren’t callous, but there is a distinct sense of unintentional cruelty to them nonetheless. “I’m sorry I’m not, but—it’s the truth. You don’t have to act like I am.”

“I know,” Kara admits. “You’re not…you’re not the same. I’m sorry I keep expecting so much from you.”

“You _don’t_ expect anything from me, though,” Lena says. “That’s what baffles me the most. I don’t know how I’m supposed to be handling this, but you’ve never pushed me or pressured me into anything.” She tilts her head to observe Kara closer, unassisted when she adds, “Honestly, I didn’t think my memory loss bothered you so much. Before now I’ve never seen you so _upset_ like this.”

This time when Kara laughs it’s not without an ounce of self-hatred. “I tried not to show how devastated I was,” she says, and shakes her head to herself. “I’m sorry if…that made me seem like I didn’t care.”

“I have _always_ been able to tell that you cared.” Lena shifts closer, close enough that their thighs touch, and then she does something puzzling; she places her hands over Kara’s. “But can you tell me more? About—about what it’s like, for you?”

Kara takes a moment to let her mind settle, to let herself truly understand what Lena’s asking. She hasn’t been able to really share this with _anyone_ , not even Alex.

“It’s, um, not really something I can tell,” Kara starts off slowly. “It’s more of…a feeling. It’s _hard_ above all else, but what really hurts is that I look at you and you don’t _see_ me. At least not in the same way.”

“You mean I don’t love you,” Lena says hesitantly. “Like you love me.”

“Yeah.” Kara closes her eyes and listens to the steady hum of Lena’s heartbeat, feels the warmth from her hands against her skin, and for a second she is at peace. “I know you’re working out your feelings for Veronica. That’s already a lot to sort through. I-I didn’t want you to feel guilty because I was so jealous.”

“You know, from an outsider’s perspective this would make quite the story,” Lena says. “A married woman, jealous of her wife’s past lover.”

“With the added dramatics of memory loss,” Kara plays along, and that garners a closed-mouthed smile of Lena’s that always leaves Kara breathless.

“Naturally,” Lena says, before she grows serious again. “I’m sorry. When you told me you didn’t mind I should’ve known better, but…in my defense, I’ve never known what it’s like to have someone love me like this before. At least, that I can remember.”

An involuntary smile tugs at the corners of Kara’s resolve. “You said something similar to me once,” she says. “I think we were dating for about a year by then, and I was saying something cheesy to you while we waited in line at the DMV and…” She stops to ruminate on the fond memory. “It wasn’t a very romantic setting, obviously. But you still looked up to me and said ‘no one’s ever loved me like this before’ as if it was nothing.”

“I suppose I loved you a lot.” Lena has yet to let go of Kara’s hands, gaze as searching as ever as she awaits a response.

“You did,” Kara says, the reality of the situation crashing over her like a bucket of cold water. “I know you did.” She doesn’t expect Lena to have anything to say to that, so she takes the initiative and says, “I think I should go. If you want to stay longer I can come pick you up afterwards.”

“No,” Lena says, and she swiftly retracts her hands as though some magic spell has been broken. “No, I think I should go too. Let’s go home.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Kara says carefully, but to herself she thinks, blissfully, _home_.

.

.

.

“Were we married in a diner?”

The sudden question stops her on her way towards the door; Kara nearly drops the box in her arms because of it. “No,” she says. “Um, did you find our wedding video?”

“I think so.” Lena is frowning at the screen, unconsciously chewing on a nail. “We’re exchanging vows in a diner.”

“Oh, then that’s the video of our wedding rehearsal,” Kara says, hoists the box a bit higher before it slips. “We actually had an outdoor wedding, but we got Noonan’s to host our rehearsal dinner after hours.”

“And this Noonan’s is…meaningful to us?” Lena finally looks up, only to jerk her head in the direction of the TV with flaming cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

Kara looks down at herself and realizes, belatedly, that she’s only clad in a bra and jeans. She is so used to clothes being optional around Lena that she hadn’t remembered.

“No! No, _I’m_ sorry,” Kara laughs weakly, hugging the box in hopes that it might conceal something. “I completely forgot…”

“It’s okay!” Lena is on the verge of shy laughter, and as cute as it is, Kara saves her the discomfort by ducking into their bedroom and throwing on a sweatshirt.

And when she finally returns from stashing the last of her supplies in her studio she finds Lena dozing off on the couch. The home videos play on; the next one Lena has located looks like it’s Maggie’s birthday.

Kara gently touches Lena’s shoulder. “Lena?”

Lena takes a minute to rouse, blinking awake but not really consciously. “Hm?”

“You should…go to bed,” Kara suggests, trying to stop the fondness curling in her chest at the sight of a sleepy Lena. “Save the rest of the videos for tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Lena’s still drifting, likely due to being tired after a long day. She is still adjusting to being back at work and Kara knows it must be tough, to throw herself into an industry she doesn’t know.

Kara is overcome with a wave of sympathy. Lena is trying so _hard_ both personally and professionally and it’s not fair that she has to. More than anything, Kara wishes she could turn back time; wishes she could shoulder all the confusion and anger and loss by herself if it means Lena will be safe.

“Lena?” Kara tries again. If this were a normal day Kara would pick Lena up and carry her to bed herself, but their normal has long since been ruptured.

The only reply she gets is another sleepy hum, so Kara brings a blanket to drape over her wife’s body. She dims the lights in case Lena wakes up during the night, and then she curls up in their armchair with a blanket of her own.

She’s never slept so peacefully in her life.

In fact, the only reason she even wakes up is an odd sound coming from the front door; a shuffling, really, and so Kara quietly makes her way over with the hope that she won’t wake Lena.

A quick glance at the clock reaffirms her suspicions that it’s early. Two a.m., to be precise. But when she uses her X-ray vision to see what’s going on she doesn’t expect…well. The cat.

“What are you doing here, you little rascal?” Kara whispers, crouching down to gently pat his head. Normally she’d laugh at the irony of petting the cat that she’s always sworn to be allergic to, but really she is too sad to even think of it.

This cat reminds her of so many good times with Lena. And still so, _so_ much of Streaky.

“Let me see if Lena still has cat food stashed somewhere,” Kara says, softly running her fingers through his fur. She’s long since been able to rein in her strength, but small creatures like these always make her apprehensive that she might overdo it.

Still, she plucks the cat up into her arms and takes him to the kitchen. She pours him a bowl of water and only finds canned tuna to offer, but when he greedily gobbles it all she gives him another half a can.

“Funny how the world works, doesn’t it?” Kara says, scratching underneath his chin. “Once upon a time the idea of adopting you was the most terrifying thing in my life. Not because _you_ scared me, but because my past scared me. And you reminded me so much of a cat I used to know.”

The cat bounds away. Kara supposes that’s fair.

She follows him out to the living room, where he’s climbing all over Lena’s sleeping body and trying to get comfortable.

“Hey!” Kara whisper-hisses, snatching the cat off; unfortunately he yowls in protest, enough to startle Lena awake.

“ _Kara_?”

Kara freezes. She’s sure she makes quite a sight, cradling a squirming cat trying to claw her skin off. “Sorry!” she squeaks. “We didn’t mean to wake you!”

Lena sits up, rubbing at her eyes and inadvertently smearing the mascara she never washed off. “Who’s this? Do we have a cat?”

“Not exactly?” Kara accidentally drops said cat. _Crap_. “Uh, he’s more of…your cat.”

As if agreeing, the cat hops onto the couch and settles right on Lena’s lap. Lena tentatively strokes his back, and he begins to purr. Slowly, Lena starts to smile.

If cats could smirk, Kara is sure this one would. She can’t resent him, though—not when Lena looks so happy.

“What’s his name?” Lena asks, beaming down at the furry mass so widely Kara is suddenly jealous of a feline.

“Technically he’s a stray. I mean, maybe you called him something, but I never really knew? So. Yeah.”

Lena only hugs the cat to her chest. “Finally,” she jokes, “something that’s a mystery to the both of us.”

Kara leaves her to coo over the cat and, to busy herself, starts gathering her blankets off the floor. She doesn’t need superhuman intuition to know Lena is watching.

“You never answered my question, earlier,” Lena says after a moment. “About the diner?”

“Noonan’s?” Kara pauses. “Um. Right. Well, i-it _is_ pretty special to us. That’s where we met.”

“Really?” Lena raises a curious eyebrow. She’s so absurdly _pretty_ that Kara has to gulp before she continues:

“Yeah, I was a barista there and you were just starting your internship at Luthor Corp.” Kara takes a careful seat in the armchair once more, significantly more awake than she’d like to be. “We had our first date there, actually.”

“That’s…so weird to me,” Lena confesses with a breathless laugh. “I-I’m not really a people person, I think. I would never sit in a diner among strangers, normally, but I suppose…I suppose I was trying something new.”

Kara grips the blankets tightly between her hands. “You know,” she says faintly, and she has to double-check that she’s saying this aloud, “you told me the same thing when I asked you out. That you weren’t the kind of person who liked to sit in public places to work.”

“How very…not forward of me,” Lena says, but she seems to fill in the blanks because she blushes a little.

“Don’t worry, you were forward too,” Kara goes on without thinking. “You asked me if I was ever going to ask you out.”

“I _did_?”

“Yeah, I can remember your exact words, you said—” Kara half-laughs, half-stumbles through her words. “You said, ‘are you ever going to ask me out, or should I do it?’”

Somehow that makes Lena smile, a little embarrassed and shy, but a smile nonetheless. “Did I have to?”

“No, I took the hint.” Kara feels warmth rush to her chest at how easy this feels. “I asked you out right then and there.”

“Hm.” Lena hugs her knees to her chest, the cat gladly taking the chance to stretch his legs and bound up onto the top of the couch. “Did you also ask me to marry you?”

_What a question_. Kara feels—no, _is_ —guilty for being so happy that Lena is curious about their life together. After so long it’s the closest she has ever been to the Lena _she_ knows. 

“I did, actually,” Kara says, and she forces herself to relax a little, blankets still clutched in her hands falling crinkled over her knees. “You saw it coming, because you’re the most perceptive person I know. But you still cried. And so did I.”

Somehow that makes Lena’s smile fall completely from her face. Before Kara can backtrack and ask what’s wrong, Lena offers that information all on her own:

“I hate that I don’t remember all of this,” Lena says softly. “I really…I really think I could _like you_ , Kara. Isn’t that funny? I think I could like my wife?”

All Kara does is swallow very hard. “Really?” she says dumbly, _hopefully_ , and she resists the urge to pinch herself to make sure she’s not dreaming—something Alex always did, that Kara hasn’t shaken doing either.

Lena doesn’t laugh at Kara’s reaction. Her face is stony, cold, _resigned_ , and for once a slice of fear crawls up Kara’s neck.

“I don’t think this is working out,” Lena says at last, with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. “Clearly living here with you and going back to work, it’s not—it’s not enough.”

That fear remains, hammering in her chest as though it is personally yanking on her heartstrings. “Okay,” Kara says. “So what do you want to do?”

Finally, the frigid demeanor slips. “I have to admit that I wanted to give up,” Lena confesses. “But that would be very selfish of me.”

“Lena…this is your life. You’re allowed to be as selfish as you want,” Kara promises, and the ache to reach for Lena—to touch Lena—hits her as strong as ever. “No matter what, I’ll be okay as long as you are.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it.” Lena’s eyes settle on her and don’t budge. “You want _me_.”

“I…” The moisture is gone from Kara’s mouth. How exactly can she say _yes, that’s all I’ll ever want_ , when Lena might take that as proof she needs to stay? 

Lena seems to understand anyway. “I have a proposition,” she says, swinging her legs off the couch cushion to stand. “But first…” She strokes the cat’s head. “Let’s get something to drink.”

That is how Kara finds herself cradling a tequila bottle to her chest, taking a pull from it that she can’t feel, but leaves Lena satisfied before she takes it back.

Lena takes a much longer drink from the bottle. She has the cat in her lap again—“I think I’ll name him Mystery,” she’d announced an hour ago—and pets him until he gets annoyed at the steady stream of affection and stalks off to Kara.

Kara wisely doesn’t touch him. “So do I get to hear this proposition yet?” she asks instead, before Lena gets so drunk she forgets.

As it is, Lena is merely halfway to tipsy, slowing her inhibitions enough that at first all Kara gets is a sleepy blink for a reply. “Oh, _right_ ,” she says. “I think we should go on a date.”

“…what?”

“I think we need to make our own memories together,” Lena says, and she’s blushing prettily like she used to when she was shy; it’s the kind that brings a pinkness to her cheeks, her neck, all the way to the tips of her ears. “Maybe that will trigger something.”

“But do you…want that?” Kara phrases the question as carefully as she can. _What about Veronica?_ a small, traitorous voice in the back of her head implores.

Lena shrugs. “Well, we’re married,” she says. “And I don’t really know anything about you.”

“I know, but…you don’t have to feel obligated to _date_ me. Like I said, you don’t owe me anything,” Kara says.

The liquid courage in Lena’s system seems to burn out at last. “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?”

“No, that’s not—”

“You _do_. You think this is me amusing myself, or some attempt at a dumb—fuck. I don’t know. I don’t know.” Lena drops the tequila bottle. Kara hears the remainder slosh onto the carpet.

“That’s not it,” Kara says. “Of course that’s not it. I would love any chance to—to fall in love with you all over again, Lena, I _would_. But that’s not fair to you.”

Lena shakily wipes at her eyes; in turn, her mascara only smudges more. “I don’t know what else to try,” she says. “I want to remember you, you know? I want to be able to forget about Veronica and I…I don’t want to keep hurting you.”

Her words settle heavy with Kara. It’s a reminder that Lena is selfless, and _caring_ , and Kara knows she has never deserved her—not then, and certainly not now.

“I’m willing to try whatever you want,” Kara says. “But can you promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“That you’ll stop worrying about me?” Kara sucks in a hopeful breath, even as Lena stares at her dubiously. “I’m not the one who had a major life change overnight. Please just…think about what you need, and not how I’m feeling.”

There is a long pause. Then, “I can try,” Lena says at last, and Kara is able to exhale gratefully. “As long as you’re okay with this.”

“Of course I am.” Kara stretches her arms behind her head to feign sleepiness. “Maybe we should get some sleep, huh? And you can go to bed. This couch can’t have been comfortable for your back.”

“You sleep on it every night and you’re worried about _my_ back?” Lena scoffs, but she appears more relaxed now, as if Kara’s agreement to her proposition has soothed all of her worries. “You can have your bed back. I’ll be fine out here.”

“No way. You need it more than me,” Kara says unthinkingly, and then she has to bite her tongue to backtrack, “Uh—not that your back is bad, or anything—”

Lena smiles, slow and amused, and she says, “I see.”

“I just—”

“It’s alright, Kara, my back appreciates your concern.” Lena stands up and gives Mystery one more fond pat on his head. “But you’re going to make me feel very guilty.”

Kara shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry,” she says without meaning it, and Lena only gazes at her for another few seconds—expression unreadable—before she bids her a soft goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (as always, you can find me on the [tumblr](http://pippytmi.tumblr.com/))


	4. now we're dancing like we're done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realized i forgot to update this?? lmao  
> kara is hurting™ and unprepared for how to handle lena's memory loss so...she is very afraid rn, and lena is very confused, and everything is just MESSY ok i feel like i keep trying to make this more realistic over romantic and it is my fAUlt i'm sorry
> 
> i hope it's still enjoyable though! this journey of writing angst is Taking Me Out and i'm endlessly grateful that you're all still reading this 💞

“My first kiss…wow. I don’t remember.”

“ _Really_.” Lena peeks out from behind the rim of her cup, entertained smile slowly making itself known.

“It might’ve been…high school? Sophomore year?” Kara takes a bite of her pancakes and is dismayed when she feels syrup drip onto her chin.

“ _I’m_ the one with amnesia and yet you can’t remember your first kiss? That has to be a lie,” Lena says.

The truth is Kara _does_ remember her first kiss. But just like she had the first time she shared this story with Lena, she carefully picks out bits and pieces of the truth.

“Okay, maybe it’s just very embarrassing,” Kara relents.

“I _knew_ it. Do tell,” Lena prompts, smiling sunnily as she lowers her mug.

Kara wipes off her chin and pretends she has trouble remembering the specifics. “His name was Kenny,” she admits. “I accidentally broke his nose.”

“You broke his _nose_?”

“ _Yes_ , because I have a very hard head,” Kara says. “And I did not know how to kiss. At all.”

“How many times have you broken my nose?” Lena’s eyes sparkle mischievously. This is new, with the whole “dating” thing; Lena is less reserved, every bit as flirty and playful as the first time they met.

“You, luckily, have never had the misfortune,” Kara replies. “But after I told you this story, you insisted that it hurt every time I kissed you for the next two weeks.”

“Hm.” Lena takes another sip of her coffee. “It’s odd to hear about things I’ve done. I never would’ve imagined myself like that.”

“Like what?”

“Trusting,” says Lena matter-of-factly. “I must have been pretty comfortable around you.” There’s that scientist in her, calculating data and posing questions and forming a hypothesis; only instead of analyzing music, she’s examining her marriage.

“You were.” Kara forces herself to take another bite of her food. “So what do you think? Isn’t this the best coffee you’ve ever had?”

Lena shrugs, for show. “I think mine is better,” she says. “But it’s decent.”

“Wow, I forgot how much of a coffee snob you are,” Kara jokes. “You know, before we started dating you used to let me put whipped cream in your black coffee even though you hated it.”

“Now _that_ is embarrassing,” Lena says. “What kind of woman did you reduce me to, Kara Danvers?”

“A woman who enjoys a bit of whipped cream now and then, I _hope_.”

“All your talents have gone to waste, then,” Lena says. “I’m perfectly happy with my black coffee.”

“Yeah, it never stuck.” Kara happily takes a gulp of her own now lukewarm drink. Hers is topped with as much whipped cream as humanly possible. “Alex says we’re complete opposites in a lot of ways.”

“And Alex…is your sister.” When Kara nods in affirmation Lena sits up a little straighter, quite proud to have remembered. “You haven’t brought her to meet me yet.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were up to the whole ‘family reunion’ thing,” Kara winces. “But she’d be ecstatic to come over for dinner. My mother, too.”

“So you have a mother…” Lena says, and when Kara starts to laugh, dissolves into giggles herself. “Okay, seriously, I know nothing about your family. You’ve never even pointed them out to me in pictures.”

The funny thing is Kara hadn’t realized that. She’s always left Lena to her own devices when trying to regain her memory, for the sake of not being pushy; Kara’s offered a memory or two here and there, but for the most part Lena has been the one asking the questions and pushing to remember. 

“What do you want to know?” Kara asks. She faintly registers Lena crossing her legs beneath the table—another nervous tic.

“Anything. Anything you want to tell me,” Lena says. “About you, your sister, your mother, your father…”

“I don’t know where to start,” Kara says, truthfully. “Are you sure you’re up to it? Might be heavy material for a first date.”

“Are you saying we didn’t talk about anything substantial on our real first date?”

Kara bites back a smile. “‘Substantial’?” 

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Kara accidentally bumps her leg against Lena’s. “I can’t remember everything we talked about, honestly. But probably the usual first date stuff.”

“And have you had many first dates?” A tease. Lena makes it hard for Kara not to reach over and squeeze her hand, maybe press a kiss to her palm.

“Do you have such little faith in me?” Kara plays along. “I’m certainly not the heartbreaker type.”

“You could be,” says Lena decidedly, tilting her head to give Kara a once-over. “You’re charming enough.”

A hot blush crawls up Kara’s neck. “Well…thanks?” she tries. “I mean, if anything _you’re_ the one who’s really—you know.”

“Who’s really what?” Some of the earlier mirth has faded to genuine curiosity. Lena _does_ want to know. 

“Captivating,” Kara says. “You always have been.” Privately, she thinks it’s odd that Lena has never realized that. She’s never once noticed the effect she has on people—never even acknowledged it when Kara pointed it out to her once. She’d chalked it up to Kara being sweet.

But Kara knew. And she was never immune to it for a second.

Lena clears her throat. “Okay,” she says, “I think we’re getting off track.”

Kara, too, shakes off the charged moment. “Are we?”

“Yes. You have to tell me about _you_.” Lena pours herself a second cup of coffee. They’d asked for the whole pot, just like the old days.

“If you want a basic profile, it’s nothing glamorous,” Kara says. “I was adopted into a loving home at thirteen. I have one sister, Alex, and a bunch of friends who are practically family. I have a mom—Eliza—and I used to have a dad, too, but Jeremiah died a few years ago.”

Lena blinks. “Suddenly I understand why you said it might be heavy.”

“I _did_ warn you.”

“Let’s start with the fact that you’re adopted,” Lena says. “Obviously I’m also adopted. Hey, have I found my birth father in the past four years?”

Kara suddenly remembers this is a dangerous game. “Um…”

“Sorry. That’s not a question about you,” Lena says. “Do you know who your birth parents are?”

Kara thinks she nods yes. “I remember them really well,” she says. “They’re dead now, but—they’ll always be my parents. I love my family now, of course, but there will always be a part of me that belongs to them alone.”

“God, Kara, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to reopen old wounds.” Lena, unprompted, reaches over to rest her hand over Kara’s.

Her fingertips are cold, but there is a residual heat from her palm from holding her coffee cup. This touch after months of nothing is _electric_ , sparking a warmth from the back of Kara’s hand to her stomach. She doesn’t dare move.

But she does manage to reply. “No, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt to talk about my parents. I miss them every day, but it’s gotten easier.”

“I miss my mother sometimes.” Lena bites her lip, pensive. “I don’t actually have any memories of her beyond watching her die, but—I like to think she was kind. And loving. At least, I hope she was.”

“I’m sure she was,” Kara reassures her. “No one could _not_ love you.”

“That sounds suspiciously biased.”

“Well, I _am_ speaking from experience.”

Lena laughs. She tries to hide her smile as she rests her cheek against her fist, shyly peeking up at Kara in a way that can only be described as _endeared_. “Okay, I get it. You’re charming. Relax a little.”

“If this was a normal first date that’d be a good thing though!”

“If this was a normal first date you’d be coming on awfully strong,” Lena teases. “You know something? I can definitely say that this is the strangest first date I’ve ever been on.”

Kara’s heart sinks. “Oh.”

“But,” and is that a _blush?_ , “I don’t mind. I’m…having a good time.”

“Yeah?” Kara sits up a little straighter.

“Yeah.”

.

.

.

Kara still gives Lena as much space as possible.

They’re a bit more open now—Lena had even asked her quite seriously, “Did you know I have a _tattoo_?” as if it isn’t the biggest and most obvious tattoo Kara’s ever seen—but at the same time, very aware of each other.

They sidestep each other to get ready in the morning. They make separate breakfasts. The only constant is Lena’s coffee, which she will leave for Kara in the pot.

Lena even leaves before Kara does most days, just like she used to. She will feed Mystery—who comes and goes as he pleases—and tell Kara goodbye almost as an afterthought. There’s certainly no romance flitting through her mind.

But there is a tension heavy in the home all the same. There are many _almosts_. An almost touch of fingertips, an almost brush of knees, an almost fumble into each other’s arms.

Kara could get lost in her feelings these days. The shyness of their encounters reminds her of the Lena she fell in love with and, ultimately, gives her hope for their future; if this will help spark the recovery of Lena’s memory, then every awkward moment will be worth it.

She has a chance to do things differently, if she looks at it that way. But she would hate the person who would take advantage of a situation like this. She’d hate herself more if she _became_ that person.

So taking things slow becomes their priority.

Maybe it’s odd to have movie night like they used to—odd to make their dates something they’ve already done—but since everything is new to Lena, Kara commits to making new memories.

They sit together under too many blankets than necessary and watch _Mean Girls_ (Lena’s guilty pleasure) while sharing popcorn; it is, by all standards, a rather ordinary evening. In Kara’s eyes, it’s absolutely perfect.

“So you’re telling me,” Lena says, “that I made you watch this movie on our third date?”

“It was more of an…improv date,” Kara says. “Like, maybe our third-and-a-half date.”

“But I made you watch it.”

“I was more than happy to watch it,” Kara counters. “It’s basically the only movie you’ve ever seen that’s not boring, silent, or black and white. Of course I was excited.”

“My mother was to blame—she always said teen movies and rom coms were garbage,” Lena says. “I was a rebellious teenager, okay? Sue me.”

“Lucky for you, I already know the story of how you smuggled this DVD under your shirt in order to see it when you were fifteen,” Kara says. “So no need to worry about retelling the dangerous, high-rolling Lena Luthor high school days.”

“Oh my God, did I tell you that story on our third date?”

“Third-and-a-half.”

“Are you sure I liked you? It sounds like I was purposefully trying to scare you away.” On screen Aaron Samuels asks what day it is. Lena refrains from mouthing Cady’s reply.

Kara grins. “Nope,” she says. “You just liked talking to me. I’m a good listener.”

“That’s a likely story.” Lena burrows further under the blankets. Her hair, which is in a loose side braid, comes the slightest bit undone. “I don’t know what you saw in me.”

“Everything,” Kara says. “ _Everything_ about you.”

Lena rests her head against her arm and makes an unimpressed huffy sound. “I’m serious,” she says. “I know what I’m like. Veronica’s _told_ me what I’m like.”

“What did she say?” Kara bristles without thinking. “I’ll beat her up for you. If you want.”

“That is surprisingly _violent_ , Kara.” But Lena is amused; a smirk toys on her lips, fluctuating between subtle and overt. “Who knew there’d be some steel under that geeky getup?”

“Geeky?” Kara pinches the collar of her T-shirt, a lovingly worn concert memento from seeing _Boys Like Girls_ one summer with Alex. “How am I geeky?”

“You have a whole way about you,” Lena says. “You even have adorable glasses.” As if to demonstrate, she uses her index finger and pushes them up Kara nose. “It’s cute, though. I must’ve found you very refreshing.”

“Well…I know _I_ would never say you’re—whatever Veronica said.”

“Oh, it was nothing bad,” Lena hums. “Nothing I haven’t thought myself. Like the fact that I’m a bit cold. Distant, too. She always said she couldn’t figure out whether I really liked her or not.”

“You’re not cold,” Kara counters. “You’re reserved, yeah, but I’ve always been able to tell that you loved me. Despite what you might think, you’re pretty romantic.”

Lena playfully narrows her eyes. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not! It’s the truth. Once, on Valentine’s day, you surprised me with one of those giant chocolate boxes and let me eat the whole thing.” Kara pauses to consider her words. “That sounded more romantic in my head.”

“Giving material gifts is easy,” Lena retorts. “It’s harder to be sentimental, or—give something meaningful.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the best at being sentimental,” Kara says. “You would always say that the two of us meeting was something like fate. If that isn’t swoon-worthy, then I don’t know what is.”

“I really thought that?” Lena’s voice is soft. Vulnerable.

“Yeah.” Kara dares to mirror Lena’s pose, eyes fixing determinedly on hers. She has mapped out every inch of Lena’s face and knows it better than anyone, but she could never get tired of looking at her.

Lena blinks, once or twice. Almost as if she is seeing Kara for the first time. “Kara…”

She obviously has more on her mind. But instead of continuing their conversation, she leans in to kiss Kara instead.

It would be so easy to sink into it. So easy to grip onto Lena’s waist, so easy to tilt her head and open her mouth and feel Lena gasp against her. So easy to forget everything else for a minute. 

But Kara breaks away before Lena can kiss her properly; she feels the phantom warmth of Lena’s fingertips as she reaches for Kara’s cheek, and gently redirects Lena’s hand to her own lap.

“Lena,” she murmurs. “I can’t—I—”

Lena snaps back almost immediately. She isn’t upset, but her bewilderment is clear as day. “Am I moving too fast?”

“No. Yes. I don’t—I don’t know. But it doesn’t feel right.” Kara sighs. Her heart breaks seeing Lena’s eyes; they are wide, indignant, but still as dazzlingly green as ever. “What are we doing?”

“Dating,” Lena says, like it’s that simple.

“I know. I know we’re trying the whole dating thing. But isn’t it a lot of pressure on you? I don’t want to be the person you kiss just because I’m available.” Kara hesitates. “Believe me, I’d love to kiss you. Endlessly. But you’re…”

The touch of a hand against her collarbone makes her freeze. “Kara, _I_ kissed _you_ ,” Lena says. “If I didn’t want to kiss you, I wouldn’t have.”

Kara gulps. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured for this to go a certain way.”

Lena’s brow furrows in that serious manner of hers. “I know I’m not very good at saying how I feel,” she says. “But trust me. I’m _okay_ with how this is going.”

The way she shrugs it off—this idea that it’s not so bad to date Kara, to kiss Kara—it only pains Kara more. “But do you even _like_ me?” she blurts out helplessly. “Or do you feel like you have to fall in love with me again because it’s expected of you?”

The long, pregnant pause she receives is certainly answer enough. Lena’s hand drops from Kara’s shirt and curls into a fist at her side. “I _do_ like you,” she says. “God, do you really think I’d force myself to date you? Contrary to what you might think, I don’t exist to make other people happy.” She shoves the blanket off of her body, nearly tumbling off the couch in her hurry to stand. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kara, or how you want me to act. I’m sorry if I keep _disappointing_ you.”

Kara does not dare stand up too, only tightly clasps her hands together. “I’m sorry. Rao, Lena, I’m _sorry_. I just want you to live your life however you want.”

“Then don’t expect so much from me!” Lena shouts, but her stricken expression betrays any semblance of anger. “Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass, okay? I said I wanted to try. So let me try.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” Kara repeats, again, as though this time it will be sincere enough to stick. “I would never want to undermine your recovery process. But I don’t want to smother you either! I would hate to be that person who just assumes you’re okay with all of this.”

“Don’t you trust that I’ll tell you if I feel overwhelmed?” Lena asks. “Can you trust _me_?”

“Of course I trust you.” Kara jumps to her feet at last. “I really, really don’t want to be an asshole. So. Whatever you need, or want, I’m here.”

Lena only stares at her for a long moment, until: “You worry about pretty much everything, don’t you?”

“Pretty much,” Kara agrees, and that makes Lena crack a tiny smile.

“Well, I can’t ever say you’re not determined,” Lena says. “So thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Kara waits another agonizing minute before she says, “Um. Can I…can I ask if this is helping? The whole. Dating thing.”

The slump of Lena’s shoulders would be answer enough. “No,” Lena quietly admits nonetheless. “No, I still can’t remember anything. Not even a single memory.”

“Okay.” Kara flexes her fingers to busy her hands; it helps distract her from the urge to draw Lena into her arms. “Well, that’s all part of the process, right? A few rough patches and then…hopefully an eventual breakthrough.”

Her attempt to cheer Lena up does not work. She knows it doesn’t work, because Lena merely nods, jaw tightening the slightest bit before she answers, “I know.” 

Lena carefully takes a seat on the couch again. This time, she doesn’t get underneath the blanket, only motions for Kara to sit down beside her again. But her knee knocks against Kara’s, steady and shy, and she doesn’t move it away.

And then they watch the rest of the movie.

.

.

.

For Jess’s 28th birthday, she requests the presence of a few of her close friends and a fountain of tequila.

There isn’t time for the latter, but Lena _does_ bring an expensive bottle of liquor from Mexico and also allows Kara to be her plus one. Kara surmises that was probably Jess’s way of pushing them together—by not inviting Kara, Lena has to bring her along. It’s really very rude once she thinks about it.

“How’s your sculpture coming?” Lena asks as they squeeze their way into the kitchen, barely audible over the pounding bass of music.

“It’s, uh, coming.” Kara can hear herself think at long last once they close the door behind them. “What do you want to drink?”

“Wine, if there is any.” Lena takes a seat on the stool by the center island. “Can I ask how you got into art?”

“Sure, just”—Kara hefts a box of wine from a cabinet—“give me a sec.”

Lena is clearly skeptical of the cheap wine, but she allows Kara to pour her a glass nonetheless. “It’s always been unheard of in my family to pursue the arts,” she says. “I was wondering what it was like, for you.”

“I was one of the lucky ones—Eliza encouraged me,” Kara says. For herself, she takes a bottle of Coke and clinks it against Lena’s glass. “I could express myself in my art, so it became a vessel—and, I don’t know, I fell in love with it. With how it can make me feel, really.”

“Your mother sounds very nice,” Lena says, politely, before she takes her first sip. “My mother wasn’t keen on showing it, but she cared for me.”

It’s not exactly a glowing review. Kara, of course, does not say that aloud.

“But you had Lex,” she says instead. “Right? And your dad?”

Lena slowly lowers her glass. “Yes,” she says. “I always felt loved when my brother was there. No, I always felt _safe_.” With a bittersweet smile, she continues, “And he hurt someone you love. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Kara places her hand by Lena’s; their pinkies brush, and neither moves away. “You’re allowed to love him. I don’t think you ever stopped, after everything. It just…hurt you a lot more to miss him.”

“My life is insane,” Lena sighs, but she’s smirking as she takes another sip of wine. “Let’s not talk about our families. Tell me—tell me your favorite color.”

“Green,” Kara immediately replies. “A green like your eyes.”

“That is _so_ cheesy.” But the entire side of Lena’s hand brushes up against Kara’s and stays there, so Kara only smiles and asks,

“What’s yours?”

“You should know,” Lena says. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” Kara shrugs, “but where’s the fun in a date being one-sided?”

“Oh, is this a date now?” Lena quirks an eyebrow. “Interesting. In that case, maybe you should buy me dinner before you steal me away in here.”

“Hey, holing up in Jess’s kitchen isn’t a move—it’s a necessity,” Kara protests. “When she drinks enough tequila she will start puking on the dancefloor. It’s inevitable.”

“And so instead of witnessing it…we hide away from her at her own party?”

Kara raises her glass in a mock-toast. “To be fair,” she says, “we’re also the ones who have to take care of her after that happens.”

“Having friends is dreadful,” Lena decides, but one shared glance has both her and Kara cracking up. “Now you’re making me feel bad! We have to go find her.”

“Okay, okay,” Kara says, downing the rest of her soda before Lena drags her away.

They reemerge among packed bodies hand in hand. Kara doesn’t let go; Lena doesn’t, either.

Jess is easy to spot, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her guitar in her lap. When she sees Lena she immediately bursts into tears and—much to everyone’s bewilderment—falls right over.

“Jess? I’m going to get you up, okay?” Kara shouts over the music. “Can I carry you?”

A half-hearted thumb’s up is her answer. Kara reluctantly drops Lena’s hand and hoists Jess up into her arms; Lena is briefly surprised by the show of strength, but she says nothing about it.

“Whoo!” Jess shouts. The other partygoers whoop in agreement—they’re too drunk to care.

Lena leans in to shout, “Should we take her to her room?” Her lips accidentally graze against the edge of Kara’s ear, and Kara has to take a second to remember how to breathe.

Kara nods, wordlessly, and leads the way. Jess has to stop at the bathroom to vomit, and Kara dutifully pulls her hair back as Lena tries to find some water outside.

“How’re you feeling?” Kara tries. Jess groans loudly in reply.

“Shit, Kara,” she says, rubbing at her eyes and leaving her makeup smeared, “I’m a mess.”

“I know,” Kara says. She gives Jess’s head a pat. “Don’t worry, Lena will bring you some water.”

“I want tea.”

“I know,” Kara says, again. She _does_ —everytime Jess gets drunk there are two things she wants. One: her weight in green tea. Two: trashy reality TV. “But Lena can’t use the stove right now.”

“Why, ‘cause she’s drunk?”

“No, because I’m pretty sure someone is sitting on it,” Kara says. “Here, can you stand up?”

Jess begrudgingly allows Kara to help her up off the floor. She even brushes her teeth once Kara puts the toothpaste on her toothbrush for her; Jess doesn’t drink often, so when she gets trashed her entire body seemingly shuts down on itself. Usually Lena is the one in charge of taking care of Jess, but tonight Kara has to do it. _She_ doesn’t mind, but Jess looks less than pleased.

Lena comes back bearing two water bottles. “Hey, Jess. How are you feeling?” she questions, uncapping one bottle and passing it to her.

“Super,” Jess deadpans. “Why are we here?” She cranes her neck past Kara, accidentally spilling about a fourth of her water over Kara’s pants. “The party’s outside.”

“You’re even drunker than usual this year,” Kara notes, gently righting the bottle. “Do you want to lay down?”

Jess doesn’t reply—she stares only at Lena, and then suddenly the tears are back. “You weren’t here,” she says. Her eyes are glassy now, tired, and she sinks into her bed with an exhausted slump. “You weren’t here.”

Lena casts a perplexed look at Kara. “I’m right here,” she says.

“No, you weren’t—this morning, you didn’t come by.” Jess rests her head against her pillow and when she speaks again, it’s muffled. “You broke our tradition.”

Kara remembers all at once that Lena always used to go to Jess’s house first thing on her birthday, to have breakfast and mimosas because that was their _thing_. They’d gotten into the habit because Jess’s parents lived so far away that Lena pretty much was all the family she had, and since then it’s been one of the happiest Kara has ever seen both of them.

She feels so _guilty_ for forgetting on Lena’s behalf. “Jess,” Kara says carefully, “you know it’s because of the amnesia.”

Jess only rolls over with a small, uncomfortable grunt. “Yeah, I know,” she says, and this is the exact moment that Kara realizes Jess is not as okay as she thought.

Lena takes a tentative seat at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” she says. “If I’d known…”

“There’s no way you would’ve known,” Kara interjects firmly. “Jess knows that. She’s just—drunk.” _But she’s allowed to hurt_ , she thinks, _just like everyone else_.

“Either way.” Lena dons a forlorn expression that Kara hates to witness. “I’m sorry, Jess. I ruined your birthday.”

“You didn’t,” Kara protests, since Jess is already halfway to unconsciousness and isn’t about to negate the statement herself. “Lena, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s the truth though.” Lena seems to have lost all spark of joy for the night, about as dejected and exhausted as Jess is. “I need some air. Can you—will you stay with her?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kara slowly sits down. She waits about an hour, kept company only by Jess’s even breathing and the shouts of the partygoers outside.

Lena never comes back.

.

.

.

The next month crawls by.

Kara completes one of the pieces for the hotel on 27th. She invites Alex and Eliza over for dinner to celebrate, but the one person she wishes would be proud of her isn't.

When she tells Lena, Lena merely nods at her and says, “That’s nice, Kara,” and continues strumming her guitar off-key. 

She’s been trying to relearn the instrument, but so far all it does is frustrate her. Most nights Kara will be watching TV and hear the melody of untuned guitar strings abruptly end before the piano starts up instead. This angry process is becoming a regular occurrence—and is all but consuming Lena slowly.

Eventually, the promise of dinner with new people seems to drag Lena out of her funk. She dresses up for the occasion (Kara had to talk her out of a ridiculously expensive dress), and helps Kara set up the table.

This domesticity is one of a string of moments that almost feel real. Moments where Kara gets to zip up Lena’s dress, where she gets to brush an eyelash from her cheek, where she gets to brush hands with her as they set out cutlery—they keep Kara going. These moments mean everything.

“Does your mother like me?” Lena asks, quite suddenly. “Does she know me at all?”

“Eliza _loves_ you,” Kara assures her. “She’s basically the mother you always wished you had. Er, not that Lillian isn’t…well, _she’s_ your mother…” She trails off before she puts her foot in her mouth further.

“It’s alright. I know my mother takes some getting used to.” Lena takes a seat at the table. She fidgets. Then she stands up again. “Are you sure your mother won’t mind that we didn’t cook anything?”

“Trust me, she knows I love Chinese takeout,” Kara says. “She won’t mind that we ordered in.”

“Right.” More fidgeting. “Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“Don’t be. My family already knows you, and they adore you.” Kara reaches for a bottle of wine nonetheless, knowing exactly how Lena managed her nerves the first time she met her family. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“Yes, please,” replies Lena quickly.

By the time Eliza comes knocking Lena is much more relaxed; two glasses of wine will do that to a person. But she is not yet tipsy enough to be sleepy and shy, so she greets Alex and Eliza cordially and even offers to take their coats. Their flat does not have a coat rack, but that doesn’t dissuade her in the slightest.

“ _Lena_ , it is so good to see you.” Eliza hugs Lena so tightly that her daughter-in-law startles. “Oh, we’ve missed you so much.” She’s nearly tearing up at the simple act of hugging Lena, but Lena just looks surprised.

“It’s nice to have you back, Lena,” Alex chimes in. “Or, uh, sort of back.”

“ _Alex_.”

“Mom, it’s the _truth_.”

Kara coughs into her fist. “Hey!” she says brightly. “Who’s up for some food?”

Conversation at the table is more awkward than Kara anticipated. Eliza asks Lena questions about her recovery—questions Lena doesn’t tend to have positive answers to—and then when she tries to catch Lena up on everything going on in the lab at work, it merely confuses Lena further. Before, Lena used to love the science talk; some things just couldn’t be replaced with music. But now, the mention of immunotherapy leaves Lena asking,

“Am I supposed to be consulting on the case?”

“No, no,” Eliza says. “I just—love getting your opinion. I’m sorry, dear. I keep forgetting…” She doesn’t finish her sentence. Lena looks slightly glad for that.

Alex takes over with minisculely better results. At least for Lena’s mood, that is: “Kara tells us you’ve been visiting your brother. It must be nice, to reconnect with everyone.”

Kara sends her a withering look. It does not, as she hoped, convey a message that says _do not interrogate my amnesiac wife_.

But Lena perks up. “Yes, it’s kept me sane,” she laughs lightly. “Kara’s hospitality is unmatched, of course, but it makes me feel better to remember something.”

“Right.” Alex takes a slow sip out of her wine glass. “How is your brother these days? The last time I saw him was ages ago.”

“Did you know Lex?” Lena asks.

“I knew him a little,” Alex says. “I knew his actions more. He was…rather notorious around the office.”

Lena deflates all over again. “I suppose that’s because you’re a detective,” she says. “I’m sorry, for whatever he’s done. I don’t know any details, but it can’t have been good.”

Alex’s eyes widen briefly in surprise. “That wasn’t to accuse you,” she says hastily. “ _I’m_ sorry, I assumed he told you. Or that Kara did.”

“Kara has the idea that she wants to protect me from the truth,” Lena scoffs, bitterly. She stares at Kara brazenly, as if daring her to contradict the statement. “I have to admit, it’s tiring not to be trusted.”

“That’s _not_ the reason,” Kara insists weakly; she can feel Eliza and Alex looking at her, and she hates that they have to witness this. “You know I trust you more than anyone.”

“It’s one thing to say that, but another to prove it.” Lena takes a gulp from her glass. It’s the wine souring her mood, now; all the expectations and emotions hanging in the room must’ve been steadily driving her to drink. Kara hadn’t even noticed.

“I don’t want to fight, Lena.” A lump forms in Kara’s throat, unbidden, and she nearly chokes from the sensation. “You know I don’t want to be the one to drive you away from your family. I’ve seen it happen before. It _devastated_ you.”

“And like I’ve said, Kara, if this was big enough to alienate me from my family once I think it’s my right to know.”

Kara sighs. “You’d hate me,” she says grimly. “I know you would. You would resent me for telling you before you made up your mind on the matter.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about what you _think_ I would do.” Lena turns cold, deadly, her stare as withering as her words. “How am I supposed to trust you when you keep lying to me?”

 _If only she knew_. Kara knows how she must look—pale, guilty, slumped shoulders and thinned lips. Not the picture of reassurance.

“You’re asking a lot from me,” says Kara at last, as faint and wavering as she’d expected. “But I know why you don’t want to turn to your brother.”

“You don’t—”

“I _know_ you.” Kara sucks in a sharp breath that splinters along her ribcage. “I know you keep asking me because you haven’t made up your mind about me. You know that if the truth really does hurt you then it’s me you can ignore in the aftermath. I _know_ , Lena. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m selfish.”

The harsh frown on Lena’s face melts away. She says nothing for a few seconds.

And then, with a heavy kind of exhaustion: “I’m sorry I caused a scene. Excuse me.”

She leaves before anyone can stop her. Kara—who easily could’ve—lets her go.

“Well.” Alex gives a slow, admiring shake of her head. “This is worse than the time you lost your wedding ring in that cake.”

Kara belatedly glances at her. At Eliza. Both of them gaze back at her sympathetically, but only Alex tries to lighten the atmosphere by offering a small smile.

Finally, after months of bottling her frustrations and trying to hold it together, Kara’s resolve snaps right in half. “I hate this,” she decides. “I hate everything about this.”

“I know.”

“You _don’t_ know, Alex. You don’t know what any of this is like. You don’t understand how much this is _killing_ me.” Kara doesn’t realize she’s gripping her wine glass until it shatters in her grasp, wet glass crumbling to powder between her fingertips. “I’m tired. I’m going to tell her the truth—everything. About me, about us, about Lex—”

“And then what?” Alex interrupts. As weighed down by all these secrets as she is, there isn’t a trace of disappointment to be found in her voice. There is, however, that grim pessimism seeping through. “What happens when she starts asking questions? Like, ‘why didn’t you tell me you were an alien while we were married?’ kind of questions.”

“I’ll tell her the truth: Kal-El asked me not to.”

“But where does that leave you, Kara?” Alex asks. “She doesn’t love you. And a secret like yours is big enough that it might drive her away from you.”

“So what?” There is barbed wire forming a ball in her throat, sharp and biting and drawing blood. “I would rather lose her and be an honest person than be the person who takes advantage of her situation. She needs to make her choice,” Kara says. “And when she gets her memories back, maybe she’ll—”

“You don’t know if she _will_ get her memories back!” Alex’s face is twisted in terrible pain. Pain that Kara has never seen on her sister’s face before. Pain that makes her voice dry. Hoarse. “Don’t do it, Kara. At least not until you’re sure she’s recovering.”

“Isn’t that what she’s doing?” Barely a whisper. Kara is crying and she doesn’t even remember starting to cry. “She’s trying so hard.”

“She might be trying to adapt to her old life, but is she _recovering_? I think she’s as scared as you are,” Alex says. “You have to help her with that.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Admitting it helps, somewhat. Eliza reaches over the table and takes Kara’s hand, unshed tears shining back at her.

“Let’s start with giving her some space,” Alex suggests. “How about you come sleep at my place tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And we can talk more about how you want to approach this.”

“Okay.”

“Hey.” Now Alex takes her other hand. “I love you, dummy.”

Kara exhales, even feels a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I love you too.” A pause. “Dummy.”

Eliza clicks her tongue. “Girls. Really?”

“It’s our thing, mom,” Alex says innocently. 

“Yeah,” Kara adds. “It’s said with love.”

“I raised two heathens,” Eliza says, but the tears are fading at long last and so Kara counts that as a victory.

That night she leaves a note outside their bedroom door apologizing. She swears by her promise—to tell Lena the truth if Lex refuses to—and says she’ll be at Alex’s for the next few days. She also leaves Alex’s address, but doesn’t expect anything. 

She hopes, though. She always hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. i updated the [fic playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/ttmc0o0d0ssarll3vcxcvbq74/playlist/5OkGHU1CL2epm0cUu7BJRu?si=ThmATsloS7e3xuXiTLWnlQ) if anybody wants to hashtag suffer with me 😌

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! as always, find me on tumblr @ [pippytmi](http://pippytmi.tumblr.com/)💕
> 
> also, i made a tentative playlist for the fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/ttmc0o0d0ssarll3vcxcvbq74/playlist/5OkGHU1CL2epm0cUu7BJRu?si=gXnEvotYRNO4qQdwaDUyqg) if you want to listen bc i love to suffer™


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